


Remission

by kijilinn



Category: The Resident (movie)
Genre: Anxiety, Attempted Murder, Brain Injury, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Injury Recovery, Mental Illness, Murder, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Psychology, Rape, Reformation, Rehabilitation, Seeking forgiveness, Voyeurism, ethics in psychiatry, rapist reformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijilinn/pseuds/kijilinn
Summary: He killed two people. He stalked and raped a woman who left him for dead. But what if he didn't die? Was the damage from the injury enough to wipe the slate clean? And does he even deserve a clean slate? NOTE: rated M for subject matter.





	1. Chapter 1

“Jesus.” Katie huddled on the couch, watching the news with the hood of her bathrobe pulled up over her wet hair. “Did you see this?” Mya, her roommate walked over and leaned on the back of the couch without speaking and they watched the updated story of a heart surgeon who had shot her building super with a nail gun after finding a series of twisted hallways and peepholes throughout the building. “That’s terrifying. What kind of person does that? With all the hidey holes and shit. I’d have killed him, too.”

“I think I read about this,” Mya said softly, her dark eyes fixed on the flickering images of the television. “I don’t think he’s dead.”

Katie looked up in surprise. “She shot him in the head with a nail gun.”

Mya twisted her lips into a smile and looked down at the younger girl. “You know that’s not how nail guns work, right?” When Katie just looked puzzled, she smiled wider. “Sure, it shoots a nail, but you’ve got to have it pushed right up against a surface to disengage the safety guard. Even then, it depends on the length of the nail and if it was a pneumatic nail gun or a battery operated. The battery operated ones aren’t as powerful.” She stretched her arms over the back of the couch and held out her hands, indicating a length between her fingertips. “The longest nail used in framing is about three inches long. If she used anything smaller than that, he’s probably not dead. Just brain damaged.”

Katie was staring at her with wide brown eyes, an expression somewhere around horror on her face and Mya sighed. “How do you know all this shit?”

“My father was a contractor. I grew up on worksites.” She reached down and patted her roommate’s cheek. “I swear, I’m harmless.” 

“I mean,” Katie said in a little voice, “I expect the weird ass brain stuff. You’re a shrink. But… but the nail stuff?”

“I’m a psychologist,” Mya chuckled. “Not a shrink. There’s a big difference.”

Katie bundled herself into her robe and turned away. “Whatever.”

Mya sighed and flipped herself over the back of the couch. “C’mon, Katie, you know me. I’m harmless.”

“You’re just creepy sometimes, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry.” Mya tucked her knees against her chest and hugged them. “Creepy how?”

“The guy had peep holes all over her apartment, My. He killed her boyfriend. He tried to kill her. He’s better off dead. And you just sit there talking about how the nail she used probably didn’t kill him, just damaged him.”

“Damaged him more.” 

“What?” Katie looked at Mya with a look of desperate confusion on her face. 

“Look,” Mya sighed and rested her chin on her knees. “The peep holes are extreme. The killing is jacked. But it sounds to me like he’s paraphilic. Most of them are completely harmless. There was something that triggered an extreme reaction in him that pushed him out of the walls.”

“You sound like you want to help him.”

Mya smiled quietly. “That’s a job for a psychiatrist. A whole team of them, Katie. I’m just a researcher. Lab monkey.” When her roommate raised an eyebrow quizzically, she grinned and looked back at the television. “But… yeah. I think there’s someone in there worth saving.”

 

***

 

“Found unfit to stand trial.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“If you can call it luck.”

“Gets away with murder.”

“Sick fuck.”

 

Max could hear it all. Not much of it made sense, though. Just words. 

The tone rang true, though. He tried to focus on the tone. Hatred. Disgust. Yeah, he knew those. Those were something he could hang onto. 

Did he want to open his eyes? No. Keeping them closed was easier. So he kept them closed. He listened to the nurses talking. Because they were the nurses. Who knew his condition better than the nurses? 

 

“Fucking seventy percent of people survive head trauma like that. Why did the psycho have to be one of them? Why couldn’t he have been in the thirty percent? There are brilliant, wonderful people who die every fucking day and why does the rapist creeper have to survive?”

 

Was that him? 

Was that who he was?

Something small and lonely curled up in his chest and Max wished he could close his eyes again. But they were already closed.

 

“I knew Jack.”

“Emily…”

“No, I did. He was a nice guy. Really loved Juliet.”

“Don’t talk about it here.”

“Why not? Guy’s a vegetable, isn’t he?”

“There’s brain activity.”

“Fuck him. Let him hear.”

“Shh! We could get in real trouble.”

“I knew Jack.” The voice whispered right next to his ear. He wanted to flinch but nothing moved. “I hope you rot in hell for killing him, you sick fuck.”

“Emily!”

 

With a weak gasp, Max opened his eyes and the two nurses flailed backwards, screaming. He stared up at the ceiling, hearing them as they screamed at each other and tumbled out into the hallway. Tears ran down his cheeks. He didn’t even know why.

He closed his eyes again.

 

***

 

“He woke up.” 

Mya raised an eyebrow at Katie as she came into the apartment. She dropped her bag beside the door and kicked off her shoes carefully. “What are you talking about?”

“Your boyfriend. The rapist.”

Mya pulled a disgusted face. “Katie.”

“Okay, fine. Your pet project.”

“I just think he could have been an okay person underneath, that’s all.” She shrugged out of her jacket and hung it from the back of a kitchen chair. It took a moment before Katie’s words sank in all the way. “What a minute, he’s awake?”

Katie grinned at her. “Yeah. The news just reported that they’re re-evaluating him for mental fitness to stand trial. The surgeon’s pretty adamant about wanting him convicted, I guess.”

“I don’t blame her,” sighed Mya. “I mean, if it all went down like she says, I’d want him locked up, too.” She rubbed her arms and walked farther into the apartment, considering. “Are they still keeping him at Mount Sinai?”

“I’m not sure,” Katie said. “Something about nurses refusing to work with him. I think they were going to try to move him somewhere else for active rehab.”

“They’re trying active rehab.”

“That’s what the news said.” Katie raised an eyebrow and smirked at Mya. “You gonna get assigned to him if he moves to Manhattan?”

Mya glared at her. “Even if he is a decent person under all the trauma, he’s still on the hook for murder and conspiracy. It’s not like I’m going to pull a Grey’s Anatomy.” She pulled a frozen dinner out of the freezer. “You had dinner yet?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

 

***

 

“Mr. Sonnen.” 

Max could hear the voice. 

“If you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes.”

Opening his eyes took energy. Energy he wasn’t sure he had.

“Mr. Sonnen. This is important.”

He sighed.

“I need you to open your eyes, please.”

His eyes were what got him into this. Maybe staying closed was better.

“Please, Mr. Sonnen. I need your eyes open.”

“If I open them, will you leave me alone?”

Rustling near his bedside. Whispers in low tones. Finally, a hand rested on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry, Max. We can’t. But I do need you to open your eyes.”

It hurt. The lights were too bright. The walls were too white. He grunted and tried to close his eyes again, but the nurse placed a hand on his forehead and he jerked, looking up involuntarily. It was a man, serious-faced in his mid-forties. He shined a light into Max’s eyes and pressed his lips together when Max flinched away. “I’m sorry, Max. I know it’s bright. Just a minute more.” He checked Max’s other eye, then released him. “Can you sit up?”

Max closed his eyes and felt the darkness wrap around him. So much safer inside the dark space of his head. 

“Please, stay with me, Max.” The nurse put his hand under Max’s head. “Can you try to sit up for me?”

“No.”

“Please, try.”

Pain and light flashed and Max’s arms struck out wildly. “NO!” He was weaker than he remembered being, the strikes more like whips from a green branch than the solid punches of a grown man. The nurse easily caught his wrists and pushed him back down. 

“That’s unnecessary, Max.” He held his patient still while Max continued to struggle. “Please calm down, Mr. Sonnen. I don’t want to have to restrain you.” 

The language that spilled from his mouth was unlike anything Max had ever heard before. He felt trapped in a body that raged, confused by the things he screamed at the nurse. Nothing made sense.

He closed his eyes again.

 

***

 

“He’s a danger to staff. We need to move him to a more secure facility if we’re going to try to rehab him seriously. But I think he’d be better off in a long-term facility.”

“Just… lock him up forever. No trial necessary.”

“It’s not a punishment. I’m just concerned that keeping him this close to the public eye will backfire.”

“Well, the guys over at Manhattan want a crack at him before anything’s decided for long term. They still think they can make him fit for trial.”

“I don’t see the point. Life in prison one way, life in a facility on the other.”

“It’s all about who pays for it in the end.”

 

***

 

The prick of a needle. Fitting.

The arms of a straight jacket, tight around his body. Like hugging himself.

At least someone was.

Don’t think. Don’t feel.

Maybe breathing was a bad idea, too.

Darkness behind his eyes was a safe place.

Except… 

Juliet was there. In the darkness.

A nail to his chest. Another. Another.

Feeling her over him, the shadow of her face. 

 

“Holy shit, how much does he have in him?”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Shit. Shit, hold him!”

“I am! Fucker’s stronger than I thought.”

“Even with a vein full of tranqs.”

“Shut up and get his legs.”

 

***

 

Mya stood with a cluster of other residents and interns as the truck rolled up. “It’s really him,” whispered one intern with her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were huge and terrified. “The creeper.” Mya gave her an irritated glance, then shifted to see better. The back of the truck opened and the orderlies unloaded the gurney. 

Something hit Mya hard between the shoulder blades when she saw him. Straitjacket. Face slack and loose from the tranquilizers. He looked… sad. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted nervously. “Do you know where he’s being assigned?”

“They’ve cleared part of E wing,” murmured Jose from beside her. “They’re keeping security pretty tight. No press, no visitors, only special clearance for staff.”

Mya watched as they continued to push the gurney away. “Doesn’t seem like it’s necessary.”

“The guy killed two people and raped a woman after stalking her for weeks.” Mya glanced up at Jose’s face and he was staring at her warily. 

“Allegedly,” she replied quietly and he rolled his eyes with a grunt. “Hey, something happened, Jose, I’m not saying differently. But right now? Look at him. He’s trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey. And they’re acting like he’ll hop up and start using them for boxing practice.”

“He scared the shit out of two nurses last week just by opening his eyes.”

“Ooh. Scary.”

“He tried to lay out a nurse for asking him to sit up.”

“Tried?”

“Look,” Jose sighed. “If you wanna believe the best in all people, that’s your business, My. But even you’ve got to admit that some people are dangerous.”

“He just doesn’t look dangerous to me.”

“He’s doped to the gills! Of course he doesn’t!”

She folded her arms and sighed, frustrated. “I’m just… curious. That’s all.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re on the wrong side of the work order,” Jose muttered and Mya smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

“I understand some of you are concerned about our newest patient and I want to make it clear that he is exactly that: a patient. I expect the same treatment for Max Sonnen that we provide for all our patients and will accept nothing less. If you’re too uncomfortable with his care, please feel free to let me know and you’ll be reassigned. But understand, too, that he is a patient first and foremost. Treat him with respect.” Doctor Sing stood back from her group of interns and nurses, watching them for a moment from behind her glasses. “Any questions?”

“Do you think he did it?” 

A nervous giggle erupted from the group and Mya glared in Brad’s direction. He had a cheeky grin on his face that Sing’s stony stare wiped away quickly. “He is innocent until proven guilty and a patient with a severe injury until he’s fit to stand trial. What I think has no bearing on his care, Mr. Avente. And it had better have no bearing on your part of it.”

Brad paled, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright, people, meeting’s over,” Sing said quickly and began directing her people to their stations for the day. “Norris, over here, please.” Mya raised her eyebrows, but followed the doctor over to the side of the room as her cohort trooped out. “I’ve been hearing some of what you’ve had to say lately.” Mya chewed her bottom lip nervously and tried to grin. “Especially what you’ve been saying about Mr. Sonnen. If I assign you to his care, can I trust you to be professional?”

“Of course.” Mya tucked her hands behind her back, trying not to pick at her fingers. “Why me, ma’am?”

Sing smiled and tilted her head with a slow shrug. “You’re the only one who hasn’t already asked to be assigned elsewhere. Everyone else is fucking terrified of him. You’ll be my second on this and I expect your best.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

***

 

Hands moved him. Washed him. Kept his tubes clean. 

Darkness was the only quiet place. He stayed there.

“Mr. Sonnen.”

Why wouldn’t they just leave him alone?

“Mr. Sonnen, my name is Doctor Amalia Sing. This is my assistant, Marijka Norris. Mya. We’re here to see if you’re willing to talk to us a little bit.” 

There was movement and a blindingly strong smell of flowers. Daisies. Zinnias. Without meaning to, Max rolled away from the smell and gagged quietly. He could distantly hear them talking back and forth. 

“Mr. Sonnen, are you alright?”

“Stinks,” he replied. 

“It’s your perfume.” The second voice was low, but still feminine in spite of an almost masculine rumble to it. 

“What?” That was Doctor Sing again.

“It’s too strong.” Maya? Was her name Maya? Her voice was embarrassed, but amused and Max found himself smiling. 

“I didn’t… oh. I must have forgotten. I walked to work and passed a fragrance seller. They must have gotten me. I didn’t notice.”

“It’s bad,” giggled the low voice. “Maybe we should take a second pass at a scrub up?”

“Why doesn’t anyone tell me these things,” sighed Doctor Sing, her voice moving away. 

“I’ll be right there.”

Max kept his eyes closed, his body still turned away from the powerful smell of flowers. As the doctor retreated, something warm touched his shoulder and he twitched with a low grunt. “It’s okay,” Maya whispered to him. “We’ll be right back. It won’t be so bad when we do. I promise.”

“Wait…” He didn’t mean to speak, but it came out anyway. A hopeful, quiet request.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, staying nearby. 

Max rolled slowly until he could see her, finally opening his eyes again in spite of the glare of the lights. The assistant stood beside his bed, her hand resting on the guard rail. She was beautiful, or maybe it was just the way she blocked the light. Seeing her eased the pain in his head and he exhaled quietly, half-closing his eyes. “Don’t… go.” He tried to reach up, but his hands felt heavy and wobbly. They didn’t do what he wanted. 

“Don’t move, Max,” she said. Her voice was so soft. Gentle. “It’s okay. Just stay there. Do you want something to drink?” 

“I… no.” Pain started to throb again and he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth. Couldn’t she just leave him alone? “Go away.”

“All right.” 

To his shock, he heard her feet retreating quietly and the click of the door after her.

She’d left him alone when he asked.

Confused, he tried to sit up, pushing against the bed to look around. The room was just a room. A hospital room. He was so tired. His arms trembled when he tried to move them and his belly was immediately a fiery agony when he contracted his abs to sit. With a pained grunt, he fell back to the bed and held still.

Three nails. Bam. Bam. Bam.

Bam.

No wonder everything hurt.

Max lay back in the bed and closed his eyes again, letting the darkness soothe his head. What was he now? Who was he? Instinctively, he felt his left hand starting to flick repeatedly against the guardrail. Tick tick tick tick. The metal hurt against his fingernail, but each repeat seemed to help and he felt like he could breathe more normally again.

Except… something was wrong. He shifted and tried to flick his fingers again. The left felt clumsy, not like itself. Reluctantly, he tried flicking with his right hand instead. The relief was immediate and he groaned, dropped back against his pillow. It didn’t make sense, but he wasn’t going to argue with it. If the flicking had moved, he’d move with it.

The door opened and he went utterly still, waiting. 

The scent of flowers was muted now, covered with the sting of hand sanitizer and antiseptic soap. It was still there, but it wasn’t as bad. Now, it was joined by the faint smell of sweat and skin, and something like cocoa and spices. Had he always been this aware of smells? He didn’t think so. “Is that better, Max?” Doctor Sing asked.

“Yeah.” 

He barely opened his eyes and peered at the two women beside his bed. The light was still so bright, but Maya kept moving to carefully cast her shadow across his face. He faintly smiled, a “thank you” he hoped she understood since he didn’t think his mouth would make it sound right. “Do you think you’re up for talking to us?” Doctor Sing asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Do you mind if we record it?”

Recordings. Why would they want to record him? Max squinted up at Maya, searching her face for something. He wasn’t even sure what. Safety, maybe. “It’s so we can review them later, Max,” she said gently. “Everything you say is safe here. Doctor/patient confidentiality.”

Finally, he closed his eyes and leaned back, considering. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

With his eyes closed, he could only hear them moving, then the click of a recorder starting. “Doctor Amalia Sing, lead psychiatric with Marijka Norris, psychological study for masters thesis assisting. Patient number five four nine, three eight seven two. Max August Sonnen. Transferred from Mount Sinai psychiatric on January twelfth, two thousand twelve. Preliminary diagnoses of head trauma, abdominal trauma, post-traumatic stress disorder. Secondary diagnoses of violent tendencies, impulse control, disorientation, motor control, obsessive tendencies, compulsive behavior.”

“Marijka Norris,” Maya’s voice came in suddenly and Max could hear Doctor Sing moving in surprise. “Additional observations requested.”

“Go ahead.”

“Patient shows signs of light sensitivity, exaggerated sensitivity to smell and potentially taste as well. Recommend a bland diet until more flavor is requested, that nurses and other staff are barred from wearing perfume or cologne, and that lights are kept at overnight levels around the clock.”

There was a thoughtful pause, then Doctor Sing continued, “Observations noted. Nice work, Mya. I missed those.”

“How do you say your name?” His voice came out like a weak croak and Max tried to open his eyes again, wanting to see her face. 

“Mar-yee-ka,” she replied softly. “Everyone calls me Mya. Or just My.”

His lips twitched into the smallest smile. “Mine.”

“No.” The response was immediate and he blinked, surprised to see both doctors stepping away from the bed. “I think that’s enough for today,” Doctor Sing said briskly and turned toward the door, her hand on Mya’s upper arm and steering her away.

“Wait…” Max struggled to half-sit up, watching them with desperation in his face. “Wait, no…”

“It’s okay.” Mya put her hand on the back of the doctor’s wrist and raised her eyebrows. “Just… let me try. Okay?”

“Professionalism, Ms. Norris.”

“Always.” Doctor Sing let her go and Mya returned to his bedside. The desperation faded when she came back and she put a hand gently on the back of his fingers on the guardrail. “Max. Do you understand what you just said?”

“It was wrong?” he asked carefully.

“Yes. People don’t belong to other people. Do you understand?”

“I said you were mine.” His brow furrowed in confusion and he slowly shook his head. “That’s not right. I know that. But… My… nnn.” He finally looked up at her again and licked his lips. “I slipped. I didn’t mean to.”

“You should probably call me Marijka, then,” she said softly. “Until it’s harder to slip. Okay?”

“Okay.” Max paused and tilted his head to smile at her, almost a roguish curl to his lips. “Can I call you ‘Doc’?” 

Mya grinned and shook her head. “No. Because I’m not a doctor. Marijka will be fine.”

“Okay. Mar-yee-ka.”

 

***

 

“Norris.” Sing put her hand on Mya’s arm quickly as they left the room. “If you have any suspicions that he’s starting to fixate on you, you tell me. Right now, he’s harmless but he won’t always be.” 

Mya nodded, “Of course, Doctor Sing. I know that.” She paused and tilted her head, amused. “Why do you think it’s more likely he’d fixate on me than you?”

Sing raised a dark, finely arched eyebrow and snorted, “You flatter me. I appreciate it, but we need to be realistic. I’m an older woman, I’m considerably darker than you are, and you bear a passing resemblance to the surgeon he fixated on previously.”

“Very passing,” snorted Mya. “I’m white and I have red hair. That’s it.”

“But enough that I’m concerned for your wellbeing working here.” After a moment, Sing chewed her lip and sighed. “Maybe you should consider wearing something to cover your hair while you’re talking with him. Just to limit the comparisons for him.”

Mya raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? Maybe I could dye it instead.”

“This is for your safety and the potential treatment of a patient, Mya,” sighed the doctor. “And it is serious. If you’d rather dye it or style it differently, that’s fine. But it needs to be different enough from Juliet Devereau to lessen the resemblance. Okay?”

“Fine.” Mya sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll make an appointment and wear a scarf until then.”

“Thank you.” 

Mya paused and looked back with an amused expression. “Is this permission to dye my hair purple?”

Doctor Sing rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “If you want to dye your hair in rainbow streaks, I don’t care. As long as you don’t look like a traumatized heart surgeon.”

“Purple it is,” she said cheerfully as she strode down the hallway.

 

***

 

Hands moved him. The voice was humming quietly above him, cheerful. 

The needle had gone into the IV line. He’d watched it this time. 

They were afraid of him.

The sad little thing inside of him curled up and Max closed his eyes.

He never wanted to hurt anyone. Not really.

Hands moved him and he rolled willingly when they did. He cooperated, as much as the medication would let him. He never wanted to hurt them.

He never wanted to hurt Juliet.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Bam.

His fingers started to twitch against the guardrail again, tapping. 

“Is he awake?”

“Yeah, but he’s doped.”

“Still…”

“Shh.”

They were so afraid.

His fingers started to tap harder and he closed his eyes, trying to still them. The harder he tried to calm them, though, the worse the twitching got. He clenched his hand into a fist and gritted his teeth. If only they weren’t so afraid.

“He’s… Sara, he’s…”

“Back up!”

Max swung up, frustrated. His muscles betrayed him and he flopped weakly against the bed with an angry howl. “Leave me alone!” he bellowed. The orderlies tumbled out of his room and he struggled against his own drugged muscles. “It’s my life!”

He fell back against the bed with a groan when strong hands grasped his shoulders and restraints fastened on his wrists. He tugged weakly and hissed again, “It’s my life.”

“Mine.”


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s like a psycho-lover’s dream come true!” teased Katie and Mya rolled her eyes. “Doctor Sing is actually letting you study this guy for your thesis?”

“You make me sound like a pervert,” grumbled Mya as she finished tying the scarf over her hair. “Yes, I’m doing my thesis on him. Mostly, I’m going to be observing Sing’s process and offering suggestions for treatment.” She examined the result in the mirror, then glanced back at Katie. “What do you think?”

“It’s the height of victim couture. Very chic.”

Mya dropped her arms to her sides with a sigh. “For Christ’s sake, Katie. He’s just someone who needs help. You should have seen him. He was so happy just to keep the lights dimmed.” She pulled the scarf off of her hair and let it fall over her shoulders. “He’s just a patient. That’s all.”

“A patient with a known criminal history.”

“Which I’m supposed to help prove by helping him.” She snorted and shook her head. “It’s only criminal if he’s deemed fit to stand trial. Otherwise, they’ll pack him into a long-term facility and he’ll spend the rest of his life on a steady drip of tranquilizers.” She sighed and rubbed her fingers through her hair. “It’s a no-win for him, Katie. Seriously. He’s either crazy and did it but can’t be held accountable or he’s sane and did it and goes to jail.”

“Unless you can fix him.”

“I can’t fix him,” Mya replied evenly. She sat on the back of the couch and sighed, putting her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees. “It doesn’t work like that. I can help him sort things out, maybe get a better handle on himself. We might be able to get him on some medication to make things easier. But this isn’t the kind of thing you just… fix. Brains are more complex than that.”

Katie leaned back and put her feet on the back of the couch, letting her head dangle toward the floor as she looked up at Mya. “And if you can do that? Help him?”

“He still killed two people and raped another.”

“What if he was crazy when he did it?”

Mya looked down at her roommate with a frown. “If he was incapacitated at the time, they can use the insanity plea, but it’s really hard to make stick, especially if he’s still not one hundred percent at the trial. If they say he was incapacitated once, there’s always the risk he’ll get that way again and that kind of thing scares people. Juries.”

“Do you think he’s dangerous?”

Mya sighed, “Katie, I’ve met him once. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s been doped within an inch of his life. Even then, he’s struggling with something. He’s still fighting with orderlies. Yes, I think he’s dangerous. But I don’t think he wants to be.”

Katie watched her friend with a worried expression in her eyes. “My, you’re being careful. Right?”

“I’m dying my hair purple,” she beamed. “Of course I’m being careful.”

 

***

 

“Max.” The doctor paced to the side of his bed and looked down. The lights were dim; the doctor smelled like antiseptic and an edge of tobacco. When he opened his eyes, the doctor smiled at him. “You’re awake. How would you feel about trying to stand up today?”

Three weeks in this place had made a difference. The pain wasn’t so bad. They’d started to back off his pain medication finally, though they still used the tranquilizers when they needed to move him around like a sack of meat. He kept losing his temper, though, and it was disorienting. It was like finally losing it with Juliet had broken open all control and now he didn’t know how to put it back. He looked warily at the doctor, then glanced to check for restraints.

“No restraints today,” smiled the doctor. “I think you’re ready for just a simple walk without them, don’t you?”

“Don’t want to hurt anyone.” Max didn’t move from where he was lying, but one finger began to tap steadily against the guardrail. His right hand. The left still felt weird. 

“That’s why I think you’re ready.” The doctor held out a hand, then motioned toward the door and two orderlies slipped inside, standing nearby. “What do you think, Max? Give it a try?”

Slowly, Max studied his hand, then looked up again and reached to grasp the man’s hand. He couldn’t remember his name. He’d been introduced many times, but Max had given up trying to remember it. It was like names just didn’t matter as much anymore. The orderlies moved forward and Max tried not to be afraid of them. One put down the guardrail on the left side of the bed and they helped him stand up. The pain across his stomach was incredible still and Max grunted, his face twisted with the intense sensation. He growled as the tensing of his core muscles made the pain worse. 

“Steady,” the doctor said in a calm, even voice. “It’s okay, Max. Try to relax. The pain will pass, I promise.” 

Max tried to focus on the man’s voice, struggled to release the tense muscles of his jaw. The harder he tried, the more frustrated he got. His hands fisted up tightly and he growled louder, hearing his own jaw creak with the tension. 

“Max.”

Everything shattered in his head and Max looked up to see that Doctor Sing and Mya had come in for their afternoon visit. It was Mya who had spoken, her face concerned. She had been wearing a variety of scarves over the last few weeks, an odd change that he hadn’t expected. But today, her hair was in a loose braid over her shoulder, a brilliantly vibrant shade of blue-purple that faded to red-purple at the ends. When he saw her, though, the tension evaporated and so did the pain. He relaxed and felt himself automatically straighten up with the support of the orderlies. 

He smiled. 

He couldn’t help but notice the look that crossed Doctor Sing’s face at that smile, though and felt it curl up into a shier expression immediately. He ducked his head and looked down at his own bare legs sticking out from the bottom of the hospital gown. He’d barely even seen his feet in three weeks. They felt like a stranger’s feet. “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked him, putting a hand out to steady him.

“Weird,” admitted Max. He shifted slowly from one foot to the other, letting the orderlies keep him upright as he gradually put his weight back onto his legs. “Everything’s… weird.”

“Should we come back later?” asked Doctor Sing.

Max saw the male doctor turning to answer and a flash of panic ran through him. He couldn’t do this without Mya. He just couldn’t. “No, please.” He looked at her and saw the wariness in her face. It kicked him in the stomach.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Bam.

He half-curled over the pain in his stomach and grunted softly as the orderlies let him back down onto the bed. He sat, though, instead of lying down right away. “Let me sit?” he pleaded softly and his doctor nodded. The orderlies backed up a little.

“You want to sit up for our visit today?” Doctor Sing asked as she came forward. 

“Yeah,” Max shifted to rub the back of his neck with one hand. “I haven’t seen my feet in weeks. Kinda want to get to know them again.” He tried not to look at Mya and the curl of blue-purple braid over her shoulder. He closed his eyes. 

Darkness was still safer.

He could hear Doctor Sing and Mya pulling over chairs and sitting down. The orderlies were shifting their feet, then the male doctor and the orderlies slipped out and closed the door. “Do you mind the recorder?” Doctor Sing asked.

“No.”

“Can you open your eyes, Max?”

With his eyes still closed and his head hanging a little, Max shifted uncomfortably and asked, “Do I have to?”

“I’d like it if you would.”

“Are the lights still too bright?” asked Mya gently. 

“No,” Max sighed. “It’s just… quieter this way.”

“Quieter?” asked Doctor Sing.

Max paused and considered how to phrase what he meant. Words came harder now, especially when he started to get frustrated. They’d never been easy, but it was so much worse now. He cleared his throat and said carefully, “When it’s dark, things make more sense. I feel like my head is quieter when I can’t see.”

“When you say your head is noisy, what do you mean?”

“Input,” Max said in a small voice. “Too many… images. Thoughts. Colors. Everything. It’s all just… there. When my eyes are closed, I don’t have to see.”

“When you can’t see, what do you do?”

“I listen,” Max replied. “Mostly, I just listen. Sometimes, if the smells are strong, I smell or taste, too. But mostly, I just listen. It makes more sense than seeing.”

“Do you feel?”

Max stopped to think about the question. Feel? “I hurt,” he admitted softly. “So I try not to feel much.”

There was a long pause outside and he found himself tempted to open his eyes and look at Doctor Sing and Mya. They were having one of those silent conversations that frustrated him so much because they didn’t make sense to him anymore. They used to, the raised eyebrows, the quickly changing pattern of smiles and shrugs. But they didn’t anymore. When they didn’t say anything more, he finally opened his eyes and looked up. 

Mya’s eyes were watching his face and when his eyes met hers, she smiled at him. Doctor Sing was frowning, looking uncomfortable. “See,” Mya said softly. “There are quiet things out here, too.”

Max felt a smile on his face. He couldn’t make it go away this time, no matter how angry or worried Doctor Sing’s expression became. He knew she was worried about him. She was afraid of him, just like everyone else.

But Mya… Mya wasn’t. 

“I’m not a monster.” The words came out before he had a chance to take them back and put them away. 

Mya and Doctor Sing exchanged a worried glance. “We never said you were, Max,” Doctor Sing said in a quiet voice. “Has someone said that?”

“Sick fuck. I hope you burn in hell.” He closed his eyes again and drew his chin to his chest, the words still burned into his mind.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Bam.

“Who said that?” asked Doctor Sing in an angry voice. 

Max could feel his fingers starting to tap against the edge of the bed, his right hand moving down until he could feel the metal under his fingertips. “Why have I switched hands?” he asked suddenly. If anyone could tell him, it was Doctor Sing. 

“Sorry?” she sounded confused by his switch in topic and Max tried to refocus.

“My...my hand. I used to tap like this left-handed. Now it feels weird.” With a carefully focused effort, Max stretched out his right hand and forced the tapping to stop. “Everything feels… weird now.”

Doctor Sing leaned forward in her chair and braced her elbows on her knees. “Sometimes, things like that happen with a brain injury like what happened to you. Dominant hand switches, hypersensitivity to sounds and smells, that kind of thing.” Mya glanced at the doctor, but didn’t say anything. Max wondered what she was thinking about. 

“Makes me feel like I’m not me anymore,” Max admitted in a small voice.

“Does that bother you?”

“If I’m not me, then who am I?”

“Someone hurt,” Mya’s voice whispered gently and Max looked up. “Someone we’re trying to help get better.”

“What I did…” Max could feel his face pulling into itself as he struggled to find the words. “I didn’t… want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Doctor Sing said gently. “We’re here to help you, Max. If you want to talk about that, you can. But you don’t have to. Do you understand?”

He nodded without lifting his head. “I… want to understand. What happened. What I did. Why. Because it doesn’t make sense.” Finally, he looked up at Doctor Sing and was surprised to feel tears on his face. “I don’t understand. I scare people. I scare myself. I don’t understand.”

“Slow down, Max,” Doctor Sing said. “You don’t have to answer everything right now. Just… slow down.”

His eyes left the doctor’s face and found Mya watching him earnestly. Something in his chest ached and he closed his eyes again, quickly. Don’t look. Don’t look. 

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Bam.

“Max.” Mya spoke very gently and he opened his eyes to see her again. “Do you think you would feel better with something soft?” When he looked puzzled, she smiled. “This is going to sound weird, but I swear, I’m being serious. When I feel… lonely. Or sad. Or scared. I like to have something to hold that’s soft. A pillow. Or a stuffed animal.”

Max watched her for a minute, then glanced at Doctor Sing. He reached back slowly for the thin hospital pillow, grunted quietly when the movement pulled the scars across his stomach, then dragged the pillow over to himself. He raised his eyebrows at Mya and she nodded encouragement, so he slowly put his arms around the pillow and hugged it, dropped his chin to the top of the pillow and let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in. 

“Is that better?” Mya asked him in a soft voice.

“Yeah,” Max answered, his tone surprised. “I… yeah, it does.” He gently pushed his face against the rough cover of the pillow and closed his eyes, letting the pillow help to block out the light. He hugged the pillow tightly to his chest and slowly let himself rock a little bit. The rocking felt good, too. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” said Doctor Sing. “Would you like us to get you something softer to hang onto? A softer pillow, something with different texture?”

“That’d be nice.” Max looked up and his eyes found Mya’s face. She smiled at him and he answered it with only a small, shy expression before he pushed his face back into the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

“Doctor Sing,” Mya said urgently as they walked down the hallway. 

“Yes, Mya.”

“You didn’t tell him everything.”

“About?”

“His condition.” She had to hop a little to keep up with the taller woman. “The other potential developments from this kind of head trauma.”

“Potential,” the doctor replied. “I explained symptoms he’s already showing. I don’t want to suggest things.”

Mya sighed. “But he’s already showing the mood swings, the violent reactions to frustration.” When Doctor Sing slowed a little to meet her eyes, Mya tried to keep a pleading tone out of her voice. “Shouldn’t he be aware of what might be coming?”

“Do you think it would improve his care to know he might become violent without reason? Or that his moods might swing suddenly?”

“It might help him understand why it’s happening. He’s not stupid.”

Doctor Sing glared a little. “Use your words, Mya.”

Mya sighed and threw up her hands a little. “He’s not incapable of following an informed argument. He isn’t uneducated or incapable of reasoning.” She slowed down when Doctor Sing raised her eyebrows warningly. “He… he’s not mentally incapacitated.”

“He’s not?” the doctor asked quietly. “Because if he’s not, he’s fit to stand trial. You understand that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Should we tell him everything about his potential manifestations? Or should we wait to see what develops?”

Mya shifted her feet and sighed, looking down. “I just don’t want him to be scared.”

“Professionalism, Ms. Norris.”

“Is it unprofessional to have compassion?” she shot back angrily.

Doctor Sing rocked back on her heels with a sigh, arms crossed over her chest. “Mya, don’t you dare get attached to him. I will get your butt off this case so fast, your head will spin. I’m worried enough that he’ll fixate on you. Don’t make me worry about you fixating on him.” When Mya didn’t answer, she leaned in closer and hissed, “I will cut you off from this. You’ll need to start your thesis on something else. But God DAMMIT, I will keep you safe. I don’t give a rip about compassion right now. You stay professional with him or you’re gone.”

With her head low, Mya nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

***

 

The doctor’s name was Martin. Max felt extraordinarily proud of himself the day Doctor Martin came in for his physical therapy session and he could say, “Good morning, Doctor Martin.” Way beyond being able to walk, he was pleased about being able to remember.

“Good morning, Max,” Doctor Martin said with a bright smile. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better,” Max sighed happily. “A little, anyway.”

“Good. Do you need help getting up?”

Max swung his legs out to the side of the bed and sat up without help, another flash of pride hitting his chest. He looked down at his feet, pleased to see hospital socks and pajama pants instead of the open-backed gown. Being dressed, even this much, made him feel more human, more like a man instead of a child. He wiggled his toes and grinned at them.

“Max?”

He blinked and looked up. “Right.” He shifted and slid on the bed until he could put his feet on the floor, then tensed his muscles, ready for the pain of standing. It didn’t hurt as much as it had, not by a long shot, but it still hurt. Carefully, he pushed himself up until he was balanced on his own feet, his own legs.

All by himself. 

Doctor Martin kept one hand out in case he started to fall, but Max felt surprisingly steady on his own. “Nice work! You want to try a few steps with the walker?”

“I think I’m good.” Max took a step confidently, but the second made him wobble and his arms shot out to the sides. “Whoa.”

“Easy there,” chuckled Doctor Martin. “You’re doing great, but you’re not quite ready for marathons just yet.” He held out a hand and Max grabbed a hold, using the other man’s steady presence for balance. “Nice. Great job. Try another one.” 

After a few more steps, Max could feel his legs getting shaky and he clenched his jaw, trying to push past the tremble. Doctor Martin’s voice was still steady in his ear, though, and he focused down to a pinpoint, keeping himself where he needed to be to walk.

“I think that’s enough,” Doctor Martin said firmly and turned Max back toward the bed. “You’re making real progress, though. Awesome job today.”

“It’s like learning all over again,” Max said once he was sitting again. He leaned down and rubbed his thighs, aware of the burn of worked muscles. “It’s weird.”

“But it’s getting easier, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Doctor Martin patted his shoulder. “Good. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, but don’t let it get you down. You’re doing great.”

The door opened and they both looked up to see Doctor Sing poking her head inside. “Are you ready for me, Max?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said brightly.

She smiled at him and came inside, then let the door fall shut as Doctor Martin slipped out with a little wave. 

Max paused, waiting.

The door didn’t open again.

His good mood faltered a little, but Doctor Sing smiled gently. “Marijka has a few days off, Max. She’ll be back next week.” She pulled up a chair and sat down beside his bed, facing him. “How are you, Max?”

She has a few days off? She didn’t even stop to say good bye? Disappointment throbbed, but he tried to push it away. She was a doctor. Of course she didn’t stop to say good bye. He was just a patient. He knew that. He shook his head sharply to clear it and refocused on Doctor Sing. “I’m doing…” he paused. “Well, I was doing really good. Now just… kinda good.”

“Can you tell me why?” She shifted to cross one leg over the other.

“I was looking forward to seeing Marijka,” he admitted quietly. 

“Was that the only reason you were feeling good?” she asked.

“No.” Max shifted and wiggled his toes again, reminding himself. He smiled. “I’m starting to walk again. It feels good to stand up on my own. It feels good to feel like my feet are mine again.”

“They didn’t before?”

He shrugged. “If I’m not using it, it doesn’t feel like mine. It feels like it belongs to someone else and I’m just holding it for them.” 

Doctor Sing sighed and leaned forward. “Max, I’m going to ask you some hard questions today. And I want you to answer as honestly as you can. If you feel like you can’t answer or don’t want to, please tell me to stop and I will. Okay?”

Nervously, he looked up at her intent face. “Okay.”

“Who was August Sonnen?”

_ Your mother was beautiful. She married a weak man. And gave birth to another. _

Max flinched away from the remembered slap, ineffectual but still painful on a different level. He tried to find the breath stolen by the memory, finally taking a sharp gasp and looking at the doctor, betrayal in his eyes. “I thought you weren’t here to talk about that. I thought you were here to help me get better.”

“I’m hoping that talking about it  _ will _ help you get better.” Doctor Sing shifted in her seat and watched him. “Can you talk about him?”

“I…” Max trailed off and found himself pulling the pillow around and to his chest. He hugged it tightly until some of the anxiety started to fade. “August was my grandfather. He raised me after my parents died.”

“And how was your relationship with him?”

Max shrugged, pressing his chin into the pillow. He had a flash of feeling ten years old again, standing at his parents’ grave beside August while the old man gripped his shoulder and admonished him not to cry. Never to cry. He was starting to rock again and tried to still the movement.

“You can rock if you need to,” Doctor Sing said gently. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Max looked up, his expression shocked. “What?”

The doctor nodded toward him. “The rocking. If it makes you feel better, it’s okay. You don’t have to stop.”

It was like someone had opened a window on a stuffy room and thrown open the curtains. Max closed his eyes and relaxed against the pillow with a sigh. “Really? It’s okay?”

“It is.” Doctor Sing shifted her hips in the chair. “It’s completely normal in someone with anxiety, Max. The tapping, too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Max tried not to give in to the wave of emotion that came with her words, but he gasped on a sob and buried his face in the pillow. He rocked and cried into the scratchy cotton, lost in his own relief. Once he felt more steady, he sniffed and looked up at Doctor Sing, who was gently smiling at him. He smiled back. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome, Max,” she said in a kind voice. “I’m sorry no one has told you that before. I’m sorry it took me this long to say it. I should have said so sooner.” She scratched an eyebrow thoughtfully, then added, “Are you okay to keep going? Or should we stop?”

“No,” Max said and wiped his eyes. He looked at her and saw something like surprise in her face. “No, I’m okay. I can keep going.”

“Okay.” She nodded and settled her notepad in her lap. “How was your relationship with your grandfather?”

“He was hard,” he admitted quietly. “But it was his generation. They did things differently and I was an odd kid, especially for him. He… I think he blamed me for my parents a little. At least, he took it out on me.”

“How so?”

“He told me I was like my dad.” He shifted and glanced up at her with a nervous little smile. “Have you heard about the Sonnen case? Back in the early 70s?” When Doctor Sing looked blank, he took a deep breath and continued, “My… father found out that my mother had been sleeping with someone else. And he killed her. Then shot himself.” He rubbed his chin against the pillowcase, letting his eyes go unfocused without closing them. “I was little. I saw it happen. I was hiding in the closet.”

Doctor Sing made a soft, encouraging sound without articulating anything and Max felt a small smile flicker on his lips. Therapist noises. “It scared me. I mean, of course it did. So I hid for a long time. Whenever I was nervous or upset, I hid in the closet. Or the pantry. Or the cupboard. I always felt safer in the dark. Like nothing could see me, so I was safe. It drove August up the wall. He hated it, said I was a weakling, a coward. And I was scared. So I guess I believed him.”

“About what?”

“That I was weak. A coward. So I stayed hidden as much as I could. I mean, I went to school, so I learned how to talk to people. But it was always hard. I was always scared. Eventually, the only way I felt like I could be… around people was if they couldn’t see me.” He looked up at her and was surprised to see understanding on Doctor Sing’s face.

“That’s how you started watching.”

“Yeah.” He felt his face color and he pressed it back into the pillow. “I guess.”

“Can you tell me about how August died?”

Max closed his eyes tightly and felt his jaw clench. “No.”

Doctor Sing paused, then said very gently. “Some other time, maybe.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“We won’t today. Okay? Do you want to stop altogether?”

Max tried to unclench his jaw and discovered that he couldn’t. His breathing was coming harder and his fingers started to flick incessantly at the still-present guardrail on the bed. He tried to answer her question, but nothing came and he just barely managed to bring his head up to look at her in panic before he screamed in her face, “LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

Doctor Sing stood up quickly and backed away, her hands raised. “It’s okay, Max. I’m going. It’s okay.” Her face was alarmed, but even through his own panic, Max could see the calculating expression in her eyes. She’d seen his flash of terror before the snap. “I’ll go for now. It’s okay. Have a good afternoon, Max.” She slipped out the door and closed it after her. He heard the door snap shut and lock.

Rage blinded him and he threw the pillow across the room with an inarticulate scream. He couldn’t even understand the words coming out of his own mouth as he tore the bed apart, throwing sheets and blankets around until his muscles finally gave out and he collapsed on the floor, curled tightly into a ball and let himself cry.


	5. Chapter 5

Mya curled up on the couch and stared at the television. Katie was at class. She had paperwork she should be doing, but she found herself just binge-watching Netflix instead. She avoided the police procedurals, the medical dramas, the courtroom dramas. Too many things in common with her life right now. 

“ _ The Walking Dead _ ,” she decided with a nod. “Nothing in common with my life. I’m good with zombies.” She collected an extra pillow from her bed and buried herself in a blanket to watch.

Two seasons later, Katie came home to find her roommate with a 2-liter bottle of root beer clutched to her chest, popcorn all over the living room floor, and a horrified look on her face. “What the hell?”

“SHHH,” Mya replied sharply, flapping her hand without looking away from the television. “Herschel is sick.” Katie rolled her eyes and walked through into her bedroom. 

“Did you at least get your paperwork done?”

“What paperwork?”

“Fuck you, My, I’m not covering for you forever.”

Mya sighed and paused the episode. “I’m not asking you to.”

“Weren’t you supposed to work today?” Katie asked from her room.

“Doctor Sing told me to take some days off. I think she’s got some stuff she wants to talk to Max about when I’m not there.”

“Couldn’t she do that by just reassigning you?” Katie came back out, wearing pajamas and in the process of winding her long black hair up into a ball. 

“Probably.” Mya sighed and let her chin rest on the back of the couch. “I think she thinks I’m working too hard on this.”

“Are you?”

“Probably.”

Katie flopped down on the other end of the couch with a sigh. “Pizza?”

“Please.”

She started flipping through options on her phone. “What do you think she wanted to keep you out of? Pepperoni?”

“Double,” confirmed Mya. “I think she wants to start pushing him about his motivations a little. It’s getting harder to say he’s not competent for trial. He’s obviously getting better and his mind is clearing. If she can get some of this down now, we’ll have the material his defense team will want for an insanity plea.”

“Why would she want you gone for that?”

“Because he might get violent.” Mya sighed and took another drink out of the root beer. “He’s getting classic mood swings and violent outbursts associated with brain injury. The thing is, we don’t know if those were there before or not. If they were part of his personality before, then the whole scenario plays out more logically. But if they weren’t…”

“You still wonder if he did it at all.”

Mya squirmed and looked at her roommate. “I didn’t say that. It’s just… my heart hurts for him, Katie. You look in those puppy brown eyes and he’s so desperate for affection. He needs a hug and a cup of cocoa, not a straight jacket and a Tranxene drip.” She sighed and stared down the neck of the bottle. “My root beer’s almost gone.”

“Wasn’t it full this morning?”

“I stress drink.”

“Mya, what do you think is going to happen to him?” Katie leaned forward and poked her roommate in the leg, eyes worried.

Mya made a face and set the mostly empty 2-liter aside. “I don’t know, Katie. I really don’t. Every day, he’s a little bit better. It’s like watching him walk out of a cloud of smoke. He understands more every day, gets a better handle on himself, on what’s going on. And sometimes, I see him get close to thinking about what happened and he just… switches off. It terrifies him. I mean, with good reason. It terrifies everyone. And if he did it and has to face what he did, I think it’ll kill him.” She looked up at her roommate sadly, “He’s a good man in there, Katie. He is. He’s got a good heart. He’s just… different. I really don’t think he wanted to hurt anyone.”

“But did he?”

Mya closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I think he did.”

 

***

 

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone!” Max was pacing. He was actually pacing. The fact that he could stand up and pace was enough to make him want to do cartwheels. But there was just too much in his mind right now.

Doctor Sing watched him pace with a worried expression between her eyebrows. She had moved her chair farther back from her usual position and he couldn’t blame her. His pacing would have made him nervous, too. “Max, I would really appreciate it if you could sit down and talk to me.”

“I tried,” he gasped, his hands balled into fists. “I tried so hard. I tried to play by the rules. I just wanted her to like me. And she did and it was awesome and then she didn’t and I had NO idea what happened. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, Doctor Sing. I didn’t.”

“Please,” she said again. “Sit down.”

The words brought him up short and he stopped in midstride to look back at her. His breathing was ragged, but he could still see the fear behind her eyes. He took a slow, deep breath, forced down the agitation and came back to sit. Her expression eased almost immediately when his butt hit the chair. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “It’s just… I look at it and it doesn’t make sense to me. What happened. What I did. I can see myself making those decisions but I don’t know why.” He chewed the edge of a fingernail without looking at the doctor. “I scare people. I scare myself. It doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?” she asked in a soft voice.

Max sighed and slouched down in the chair until his head found the edge and his knees could splay out in front of him, hands together and dangling. “I… know what I wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Juliet.” He closed his eyes for a second and sighed. “I wanted to be close to her. But it wasn’t even that. At first… at first, watching her was enough.” He looked up at Doctor Sing, his expression miserable. “It really was. I mean, I know that’s weird and not normal and everything, but… it was enough.”

“Did you fantasize?” Doctor Sing asked softly.

Max made a face, uncomfortable. “Yeah. But everyone does that, right? Just… not while watching.” He covered his face with his hands and made a long, groaning sound, something between frustration and shame. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

“When did it become not enough?”

“August was pushing me.” Max sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair so it stood up wildly. “He left her presents, let her think it was me. Pushed me to ‘be a man’ and date her like someone normal.” He closed his eyes, his jaw tight for a second. “So I… I tried. I followed her out and tried to bump into her, all casual. I was such an idiot, but I wanted… I wanted to be normal. And it kind of worked. She asked me to walk her home and I did. And it was good. She laughed when I talked. She talked to me like I wasn’t a freak and it was… it was so nice.” He looked up at Doctor Sing with tears in his eyes. “And she kissed me. Before she went into her apartment, she kissed me and it was everything I thought it’d be. Better.” He closed his eyes and covered his face again with a groan.

Doctor Sing let him sit in silence for a while. He almost wished she’d say something. Condemn him. Absolve him. Whatever. Just… something.

Finally, he took a deep breath and looked up again. “And then she pulled away, said it was a mistake. But she went out with me again and then asked me in. It was like someone was pulling me in two different directions. I didn’t know what to do, how to deal with any of it. She was interested, I thought. She was obviously interested. And then she wasn’t. And then she was again. But then she wasn’t. And the whole time, there was August. Picking at me. Telling me I was worthless, a coward for not standing up for myself. That I should make it clear to her that she was mine and she’d fall into line. But that didn’t sound right and I was confused.” Max rocked forward in his chair and held his head, fingers interlaced behind his neck. “And everything got so damn loud.”

Doctor Sing shifted in her seat and Max could hear her breathing like someone standing over his shoulder, even though she hadn’t moved from the chair. “Max,” she said his name like someone holding his hand and squeezing. “When it got loud. What did you do?”

“I tried to make it dark,” he said softly to the floor. “I tried to make it quiet.”

“How?”

“August.” He swallowed hard. “I… overdosed him.” He pinched his eyes tightly and choked on his own words. “I wanted my life back. I just wanted to be my own man. I wanted him to be quiet. To leave me alone.”

“Do you feel anything about it?” she asked.

“Relief.” The guilt was obvious in his voice and he wished he could push it away. But he couldn’t, so he admitted it. “And guilt. Guilty that I feel relieved that he’s dead. And guilty that I killed him.”

When Max didn’t continue, he heard Doctor Sing standing up and collecting her things. “You’ve done well today, Max,” she said softly and he swallowed a bitter laugh. “No, I mean it. You’ve faced some hard things today and you did it without losing your temper. I’m proud of you.” She paused for a moment and then said in a quiet voice, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

He looked up in surprise and confusion. “What?”

The doctor smiled at him reassuringly. “Not everyone likes to be touched, Max. Would it be reassuring to you to be touched? Or should I not?”

“I…” Max struggled with the thought for a moment, then looked down. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “I am proud of you, Max. You should try to get some rest.”

He felt her hand there on his shoulder for a long, long time after she’d closed the door.

 

***

 

“What’s the news, Doc?”

“He’s competent to stand trial. But I wish you’d give me more time.”

“I can try to stall things, but that’s the best I can do.”

“Please do. He’s not ready. He’s getting a better handle on his temper and that’s a real improvement, but that’s only in a controlled situation. Right now, I don’t think he could hang on in a courtroom.”

“Has he said anything about the actual crimes?”

“He’s admitted to his grandfather. Based on what he’s said about the man, I don’t think anyone would blame him for killing him. But he has remorse and that’s obvious from talking to him. He’s admitted to watching Devereau and stalking her, but that’s relatively minor in this case. I really think that if the grandfather hadn’t been in the equation from the beginning, it would have been a case of harmless voyeurism.”

“Harmless…”

“I’m serious. Voyeurism is uncomfortable and illegal in some states, but it’s usually harmless if the voyeur is careful. Max Sonnen appears to have been very careful: he was building the entire building to his own specifications for those purposes.” 

“Yeah, because that’s not creepy and weird.”

“Creepy and weird, but not harmful. Without August’s influence and the strain to conform to society’s romantic standards, I genuinely think Sonnen could have continued to be a productive member of society. He probably would have gone to his grave quietly without finding a close connection with anyone, but he wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”

“Talking with you is always a trip, Doc.”

“Nice to see you, too, Evan.”

 

***

 

Mya held her phone between her hands, wondering if she should call. It had been four days since she’d been back to work and she was still scheduled for another two off. But she wanted to know what was going on. Finally, she broke down and dialed. 

The phone rang. 

“Manhattan Psychiatric Center, Jose speaking.”

“Jose, it’s me.” Mya pulled her knees up to her chest and huddled down on the couch. 

“Shit.” She could hear him sigh. “Mya, what are you doing? Aren’t you on vacation?”

“Yeah,” she said in a small voice. “But… please, Jose. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“You could always ask Doctor Sing. Oh, wait, she’ll remind you that you’re on fucking vacation. Take a break, My. Go see a movie.”

“I’ve already watched everything worth watching on Netflix,” she said miserably. 

“Go watch  _ the Walking Dead _ . If you haven’t already.”

“Already done,” she sighed. “Creeped me out. Especially the new villain at the end of the season.”

“Negan?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, he’s a fucking nightmare. Just wait until--”

“Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up. I don’t want to know.”

Jose chuckled. “New season starts soon.”

“I know.”

“Want to come over and watch?”

Mya opened her mouth, then paused and closed it again. “Is… that what I think it is?”

She could almost hear Jose blushing as he answered, “If it sounded like an invitation to watch zombies and eat pizza alone in my apartment, yeah, that’s what it was.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Technically, I’m asking you in. Does that count?”

Mya sighed. “Cut the bullshit, Jose. Seriously.”

He chuckled quietly and said, “Yes, Mya. I’m asking you out. If you want. If not, that’s okay too and I still like being your friend. You’re welcome to come watch the season premiere as a friend and I’ll still feed you pizza.”

“That’d be nice,” she finally said with a small smile.

“Which part?”

“The going out by staying in.”

There was a long pause and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Awesome. I’ll… uh. I gotta go. I’ll call you later?”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

Mya hung up and blushed herself under a blanket, then paused. Wait a minute… “Jose, you fucker!” she shouted and pitched the phone across the room, laughing. “Smooth motherfucker distracted me.” But she didn’t stop smiling and wondered if she had clean clothes that might go with zombies and pizza.


	6. Chapter 6

If you walk with purpose, people tend to not question if you belong.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Stare straight ahead, wear comfortable shoes, and walk like you’ve come to kill Captain America.

“Miss? That area is off-limits to visitors.”

She walked with purpose.

And a clipboard.

It had gotten her this far.

“Ma’am.” The polite ‘miss’ was gone, replaced with a harder, angrier tone. “You can’t be in here.”

She glared and flashed her badge, kept walking. Kept channeling Charlize Theron. 

“Hey! Stop!”

She broke into a sprint when she saw the door ahead of her still swinging shut from a previous staff member with clearance. Someone was pounding after her, so she just tucked her chin and ran for it.

“No!” she heard herself screaming when someone tackled her around the waist. “Fuck you, let me go!” She kicked and flailed, tried to break free from the dark arms around her. “Let me go!”

“You’re not allowed in here,” growled the big nurse as he dragged her backwards. “And I think you know that. C’mon.” She tried to kick him in the stomach, but he twisted out of the way. When she finally turned to face him, his expression changed as he recognized her. “You’re… you’re her.”

Juliet Devereau panted and glared at Jose as he stared at her. “Let me go,” she hissed.

“You’re not allowed in here,” Jose informed her bluntly. “You have to leave. Now.”

“Fine.” Juliet stood up with a toss of her head and Jose scrambled to his feet beside her, tense and wary. She glanced back toward the closed door to the ward and glared, a storm in her eyes. 

In the hallway on the other side, Max stared back at her.

 

***

 

“Juliet.”

Max stared at her. She was there. Unless… 

...was anything real?

She couldn’t be here. Why should she be?

Doctor Martin put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Max? Are you okay?”

He shook his head, confused. “I… just…”

On the other side of the glass, Juliet raised her middle finger at him, her eyes like ice. Someone grabbed her shoulder and jerked her away from the window, marching her out of view.

“I need to sit down,” Max said.

And his eyes closed.

 

***

 

“What the hell happened?” Doctor Sing rushed down the hallway with Mya close on her heels and Doctor Martin running just ahead of her.

“He just passed out,” the PT doctor said. “He saw something that freaked him out, though, I think.”

“Mya,” Jose called quickly as they passed the nurse’s station and she turned back to him.

“Not now, Jose,” she gasped.

“No, it’s about Max,” he said rapidly. “Juliet Devereau was here. The surgeon he…”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” He sighed and reached to touch her hand where it rested on the desk. “She’s gone and I made sure security knows to keep her out. But he might have seen her. I’m sorry, we should have caught her before she got this far.”

Mya reached and squeezed his fingers quickly. “Thanks, Jose. That might help.” She smiled at him and he returned the smile before she turned away to run after the other doctors. Practically skating down the hallway, she saw Doctor Sing crouched next to a still form on the ground and Doctor Martin checking his pulse. A pang twinged in her chest and she sped up until she could slide down the floor to Max’s other side. “Max?” Doctor Sing looked up at her warningly, but she reached to take his hand anyway. 

“He’s still breathing fine,” Doctor Martin said. “And his pulse is strong. I think he’s okay. Just… out.”

“Should we try to move him?” Mya asked softly.

“Let’s wait for a lift team.”

Shortly, a team of orderlies came down the hall with a neck brace and body board, collected around Max’s still unmoving form, and bustled the doctors out of the way. Mya pressed against the wall, watching them and chewing her lip nervously. They collected the unconscious man and shuttled him back into his room. “I’ll page Doctor Ng,” said Doctor Martin in an undertone. “He’ll want to know.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sing and she looked at Mya, her expression calculating. “Maybe we should go for now, Mya. When he’s stable and awake, we can come back. There’s not much we can do right now and we’ll just be in the way.” When Mya didn’t respond, she cleared her throat firmly. “Mya. Come on.”

Startled, she looked up, then back at the doorway where the team had taken Max. “Right,” she said reluctantly and followed the senior psychiatrist out of the ward.

 

***

 

At lunch, Mya sat with her usual friends: Jose, Brenda, Janet, and Steven. The whole hospital knew what had happened in E Ward by now, so even if she hadn’t been listening to her friends, she would have been hearing all about it.

“He just keeled over?” Steven was asking Jose when Mya resurfaced from her ramen-fueled musings. Steven was training to be an EMT, so had a little more distance from the rest of the group.

Jose shrugged a little weakly and glanced at Mya. “I didn’t get a clear view. I was too busy trying to get the woman out. She hit hard, too.” He rubbed his ribs with a sulky glare. 

“I suppose, survive a rape and you tend to hit harder than most,” muttered Brenda.

“Most rape victims survive,” murmured Mya, still stirring her noodles listlessly. When nobody answered, she looked up to find them all staring at her. “What?”

“You’ve been suspiciously quiet about all of this,” Steven said. “Isn’t this the guy you’re writing your thesis on?”

Mya’s lips twitched in frustration and almost distaste. “Yeah. So?”

“So, what happened?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there for it.” She shrugged. “Doctor Martin said his pulse and breathing were okay, then the lift team came and took him back to his room.” Mya resumed stirring her noodles. “I didn’t have much to do.”

“But what do you think happened?” pushed Steven. He leaned forward and there was a somewhat avid look in his dark blue eyes.

Mya glared at him. “What do I think happened? I think a psychiatric patient with head trauma passed out while doing his physical therapy. What the fuck do you want from me, Steve?”

Steven leaned back in surprise. “Well… I… sorry, Mya. I just wondered.”

“It’s all kind of… ghoulish, don’t you think?” Janet put in, her voice small and quiet. “I mean, sure he’s a patient, but he’s a rapist. And a murderer. And now his victim’s stalking the halls?”

“Well, the one who lived, anyway,” chuckled Brenda and Jose elbowed her irritably.

“I’m pretty sure his victim isn’t much victimized anymore,” he said quietly and the others all looked at him. “I’m pretty sure she was armed.”

Mya felt a curl of cold run down her spine. “You think she came to kill him.”

“She did try at the time,” he pointed out.

“That was self-defense, though,” Janet said quickly.

“And justified at the time,” agreed Mya in a low voice. “But not now. Not when he’s in the hospital and barely able to walk. He’s about as dangerous as a kitten right now.”

“Yeah, tell that to Marty and Paula,” snorted Brenda. “He tried to take Marty’s head off the other day for waking him up.” When Mya looked surprised, the older student sighed. “Mya, I know you’re working with the guy, but be careful. He’s getting a lot stronger and fast. Most of the nurses have to handle him in trios now because he’s too strong to move when he doesn’t want to.”

Mya tried to open her mouth to protest, but Jose put a hand on her shoulder gently. “You haven’t seen him in a week, My. He’s getting better, physically. The mental part, we don’t have as much access to as you do, so… but still. Be careful.”

“Okay, fine.” She sighed and slouched down in her seat, still poking at the noodles. As the conversation started to shift away, she started thinking. A plan formulated in her mind and she stood up, “Gotta piddle. Be right back.” Mya slipped off toward the bathrooms, then checked to see if her friends were watching her. Assured that they weren’t, she took a sharp left and darted back inside the hospital.

Walking quickly, Mya worked her way back to E ward and slipped past the desk, swiped her badge and headed down the hallway toward Max’s room. The room was in partial darkness and she could tell he was still asleep, so she slipped into the room and pulled the door part-way shut. She sat down next to his bedside and looked into his sleeping face, wondering what had really happened this morning, if he’d seen Juliet, if the fall had just been a fall. Finally, she sighed and put her head down on the guardrail. “I just want to help you,” she whispered softly.

“Marijka?” His voice was raspy and his hand twitched near her face, making her jump. 

“I’m sorry, Max,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“S’okay,” he murmured. “I was awake anyway.” He tried to sit up, then winced and fell back with a low grunt. “Head hurts.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet it does.” Mya scooted her chair up so she could see his face better. “Do you remember what happened?”

Max worked his fingers for a few seconds, studying his hands. Then he pulled them up and rubbed them slowly over his face with a groan. “I was working with Doctor Martin. And… I thought I saw something. But I couldn’t have. Because she’s not there.” He looked at Mya over his fingers. “Right? I mean… why would she be?”

Mya frowned and sighed, running one hand through her purple-red hair. “She was there, Max. I’m sorry you had to see her. We’ve tightened security so she can’t get up this far again.”

“Juliet was here?” Max’s voice had gone tiny and afraid. “Oh hell. Oh fucking hell.” He covered his face with his hands again and started to rock. 

“It’s okay, Max,” Mya sighed softly and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to worry. She just surprised us this time, but it won’t happen again. You’re safe.”

Still rocking a little, Max paused to look up at her. She could feel him shaking through her palm and bit her lip, miserable that she couldn’t do more to make him feel safe. “Thank you,” he said in a small voice. He looked down into his hands again, then said in a voice so quiet that Mya almost didn’t hear him, “I don’t deserve to feel safe.”

A flash of anger lit in her chest and Mya hissed softly, “Yes, you do. Everyone does.”

Max looked up miserably. “Doc, I killed my own grandfather. I raped the woman I loved and now she wants to hurt me. I killed her boyfriend. I don’t--”

Mya held up a finger at him severely and he fell silent. “I would say the same thing about anyone, Max. Everyone deserves to feel safe. Especially when they’re hurt and trying to get better.” She raised her eyebrows at him, “Understand?”

He blinked twice, then nodded a little. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She stood up and pushed the chair back where it belonged. “Do you want another pillow? Some water?”

“A pillow would be nice.” His voice still sounded small and uncertain, but there was a soft edge of hope in it now. Mya retrieved one of the spare pillows and went to tuck it behind him, but Max reached back to take it from her and hug it to his chest with a shy smile. “It really does help,” he said softly.

Mya smiled. “I’m glad.” She glanced at her watch and winced. Her friends would notice she’d been gone for too long for a bathroom break by now. “I should go.”

“Wait…” Max put a hand out, stopped without touching her and then put his hand back on the guardrail, chewing his lip. “Just… could you stay for a little bit longer? Please?”

“I guess I can stay a little longer.” Mya smiled sheepishly and sat back down in the chair. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Max. How are you?”

“Other than scared of someone I hurt and feeling kind of crazy?” Max shrugged shyly. “I missed you. But Doctor Sing says I’m doing better.”

“She gave me the tapes of your sessions. I haven’t had a chance to listen to them yet.” She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them, watching his face. “I missed you, too, Max.”

He looked up in surprise, then away again without speaking.

Mya chuckled softly, “What was that look for?”

“Nothing,” he said, still studying the backs of his hands where they rested on the pillow. “You said… when you suggested the pillow thing. You said you did this when you were scared or nervous.”

“Yeah.”

“Why would you be scared?”

Mya closed her eyes with a soft smile. “Lots of reasons.”

He peeked at her face. “Like?”

“Like thunderstorms. And scary movies, which I love to watch anyway. And I do it when I’m lonely, too.”

“There’s no way you’re lonely,” Max said without looking up.

Mya laughed and shook her head. “I live with a roommate who’s always in class. And all my family are back in California. It gets very lonely sometimes.” She paused and considered Doctor Sing’s repeated warnings about professionalism, then bit down hard on her lip. “I really should go, Max.” He looked up at her with sadness in his eyes and she smiled reluctantly. “I’ll be back with Doctor Sing later. Okay?”

“Okay.” He tucked his chin back down into the pillow and closed his eyes. 

_ Just walk away, Mya _ , she admonished herself.  _ Just go. Still… _ She reached out and squeezed his shoulder one more time. “I did miss you, Max.” She scuttled back out of his room before he had a chance to respond, kicking herself the whole way.

 

***

 

He was just a patient. She was one of his doctors. Sort of. 

He knew the warmth he felt when he saw her wasn’t appropriate. He knew that.

It was never appropriate.

Never.

Why couldn’t… just once… 

Why couldn’t he like someone he was allowed to like?

Max pressed his face into the pillow and tried muffle his frustrated yell.

He felt like it was happening all over again. The ache, the hope, the bright spark of excited connection. Only this time it was happening without his plan, without having watched her first. But he knew…

He knew…

Guys like him didn’t get happy endings.


	7. Chapter 7

The man pulled up a chair across the table from Max and sat down with a smile, hands folded over a folder in front of him. “Hey, Max. I’m Evan Shifflett, your lawyer. Do you remember me?”

Max looked him over slowly. His smile was too big, with too many teeth. It looked threatening, more like an aggressive chimp or an angry dog than a friendly smile. He retreated from the angry-smiling man. “No.”

“We met briefly about six months ago,” Evan continued. “Right before you were brought to Mount Sinai for treatment. I’m the one who asked the judge to grant us time to let you get better. Do you remember that?”

“Not really.” Max shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced around the room. It was one of the hospital’s small conference rooms and he was alone with Evan. Except that Doctor Sing and Mya were waiting outside with a few nurses, ready to help him back to his room when he was ready. The fall two weeks ago had been a real setback for his treatment, both because he’d fallen and physically hit his head, and because seeing Juliet had sent his mind into such a tailspin. He was finally back to being able to walk without a walker again. But he was still profoundly afraid of being alone.

That was a new thing. Ever since seeing Juliet on the far side of the doors, he’d been hearing her voice, seeing her on the other side of the mirror, seeing movement in the corner of his eye or behind a curtain. Every unexplained noise, every breath of air that moved without his immediate understanding meant she was there, staring at him just out of sight. 

And he was terrified of her.

Knowing that Doctor Sing and Mya were just outside helped and Max tried to refocus on the lawyer, his right fingers tapping the underside of the table rhythmically. “But you’re here because they want to move up the trial again.”

“Yes.” Evan leaned forward to meet his eyes. “So you understand the trial. The whole process. That we’ll need you to help us decide how to proceed.” Max nodded uncomfortably. Evan nodded once with a sigh. “So, I suppose that’s what I need.” He flipped open the file and spread out his paperwork. “What can you tell me about what happened, Max?”

Max closed his eyes and sighed, already tired. He started at the beginning, remembering how he had explained things to Doctor Sing, how she had helped him reframe some things into factual statements instead of emotionally jarring memories. He kept talking until he reached the end of things, the three nails he remembered and the blackness of the fourth. He was sweating by the time he got there, his left hand trembling above the desk and his right tapping almost double-time beneath. 

Evan looked at him quietly for a moment, then said, “Do you need a break, Max.”

“Yes,” he said immediately. He let out a long breath and then just nodded.

Evan nodded back and gave him a small, close-mouthed smile which was much friendlier to Max. “Do you want to go back to your room or should I just leave for a little while? Or are you done for today?”

“If you could go and let Doctor Sing and Marijka in, that would be good.”

“How long would you like?”

Max considered. “At least half an hour. Maybe longer, but at least that long.”

Evan nodded again. “That leaves me time to get coffee. I’ll be back in a little while. Just let me know when you’re ready to continue, okay?”

“Okay.” 

The lawyer collected his notes and stood up from the table, shook Max’s hand when he stood up, too, then stepped out of the little room. Max put his head down on the table and wrapped his arms around his face, blocking out the brighter lights for a moment and indulging in a little bit of quiet. After a few moments of quiet darkness, a hand touched his shoulder and Max exhaled, feeling an enormous amount of tension leaving his back all at once. He knew the difference between Doctor Sing’s hand and Mya’s now. It was Mya standing near him now. Her hand moved in soft, steady circles across his back and shoulders and he let more and more tension out of himself with each breath until he felt like he was almost asleep. 

Finally, Doctor Sing asked, “Max? How are you doing?”

“Better,” he said into his arms, then pushed himself into a sitting position and smiled at her a little. “Better,” he repeated. Mya let her hand rest on his back, just between his shoulder blades and he sighed, letting his eyes close. With Doctor Sing’s permission, she had been touching him like this more, as had several of the nurses and orderlies, both male and female. Doctor Martin had also ordered that he start getting periodic therapeutic massage from the physical therapy department. The physical contact seemed to help calm him and made it so much easier to control his frustrated outbursts. “Do you think I did okay?”

“I think you did very well,” Doctor Sing said with a smile. “You were calm, even when you were talking about hard things. You used the stim patterns to help stabilize you when you started to get upset. You kept to facts and stayed away from inflating your emotions. You’re getting much better at managing your stress, Max. I’m proud of you.”

“You stayed focused, too,” Mya added, her hand still warm on his back. “You didn’t get distracted or wander off task. You didn’t get scared.” Max smiled and tried not to blush at her praise. He had been working very hard not to get too attached to the pretty psych student, especially since any time he showed an uncomfortable appreciation of her touch, Doctor Sing made her back off again immediately. But seeing her still made the room light up, gave him a warm, bright place in his chest that he wanted to wrap his arms around and never let go. 

“What do you think they’ll do?” he asked in a soft voice, studying his hands. “About the trial, I mean. I… I mean, I know I did it. I did all of it.” He closed his hands into fists and bit his lip hard. “But it makes me sick now. I can’t even think about doing it again. And isn’t that the point of a trial? To punish someone for what they did, so they never do it again?” He finally pinched his eyes shut and took a few even breaths through his nose, trying to stay calm. “I think the person who did that… the person I used to be… died when Juliet shot me.”

“I would agree,” said Doctor Sing quietly. “You’re not the same person you were then. And you’ll continue to improve and be a better person with therapy and treatment. Between the brain injury and your continued therapy, you very much are not the same man who did those things.”

Max looked up, surprised to hear her say as much. The relief fluttered in his chest and he felt Mya’s hand squeeze his shoulder gently. “So… what, though? What about the trial?”

“They’ll probably enter an insanity plea,” Mya said, her voice close to his ear. “Which just means that you weren’t in control of your actions at the time. That you were sick. And you’re getting better now.”

Max closed his eyes and nodded, listening to her words and trying to focus there instead of feeling the warmth of her arm against his shoulder, her breath on his ear. She was too close and he wanted her closer. “Marijka,” he finally said in a small voice. “Too close.”

She immediately stepped back, her hand sliding to the back of his chair but still in contact with his back. “Sorry, Max.”

“Thanks.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of Doctor Sing’s face and her reassuring smile made him feel good; he’d handled his attraction correctly. After a few deep breaths, he nodded. “So, you think they won’t send me away? Lock me up somewhere.”

“An insanity plea usually means you stay in an institution, like ours, until you’re ready to start living on your own again,” explained Doctor Sing. 

Max looked into her face, suddenly worried. “Where, do you think? Not here.”

Her eyes were sad and she shook her head, “We’re not really equipped for long-term psychiatric care, Max. They’d probably send you back to Mount Sinai until you’re ready for release.” When he dipped his head back to his arms with a soft little moan, the doctor put her hand on his other shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry, Max. We’d still visit you if that’s what happens. Your doctors there would probably want to consult with us, too. And Mya still has her thesis to write.”

Max knew that Mya was writing her master’s thesis about his treatment. At first, it had felt weird to know she was writing about him, about what he’d done and how his brain had been injured, how he was recovering and what methods they were using. At first, it had almost hurt, like she was telling the world his secrets. But when they had confronted his concerns during a session, he had started to understand it better. Because, with information about what he had done, why he had done it, and how the brain injury had changed his processes afterwards, they might be able to help other people before they did something like what he had done.

Someone like him, who’d hurt for as long as he had hurt, might get help before they did something that they had to live with for the rest of their lives.

That made it all worth it.

“That’s a while off yet, anyway,” the doctor added. “Did you want to get up and walk around at all, Max? Before your lawyer comes back?”

“I’d like that.” He stood up and paused, letting Mya get out from behind his chair, then the three of them walked out into the hallway outside the conference room. It felt good to stretch his legs and he sighed, then looked down at the pajama pants in irritation. “I wish I had pockets.”

“Welcome to life in women’s clothing,” chuckled Mya and Max raised his eyebrows. “Women’s fashion has the world’s wimpiest pocket game. It’s why I wear men’s pants all the time.”

“You wear men’s pants?” Max asked in surprise.

Mya paused in the hallway to stick out one leg, showing the hand-sewn hem on her pants. “Every time. They don’t make them short enough for me, but I don’t let that stop me.” Max laughed and shook his head, genuinely delighted for the first time in a long time. She grinned at him cheerfully and bounced back up as they continued their walk down the hallway. 

“I’m just used to walking with my hands in my pockets,” he said, rubbing his palms against his hips where pockets would be on jeans. “And there’s nothing here.”

“Well,” Mya said with a playful tone in her voice, “technically…”

“Mya,” Doctor Sing scolded her gently and she fell silent with a grin. They continued to walk until Max started to wobble. “You doing okay?”

“I’m getting tired, I think,” he admitted reluctantly. “It just feels so good to walk, though.” Max stretched his arms out in front of him and looked at his hands. “I wish I knew how to dance.”

“Dance?” asked Doctor Sing in surprise. 

“Yeah,” he grinned, looking sheepish. “I like to move. I guess I never really appreciated it before. But now, I want to be moving all the time. I hate having to sit in the bed, just stuck there. I know I’m getting better because I can walk for longer without getting tired. But I keep thinking about what I want to do, y’know. Eventually.” He glanced at Mya and then away just as quickly. “And I don’t know how to dance.”

Doctor Sing and Mya exchanged a brief grin, then the doctor said, “Maybe you should suggest it to Doctor Martin. Maybe he can add something to your program that will help.”

“Do you think he would?” Max asked, hopeful. 

“I’m sure he would,” Doctor Sing smiled. 

“I will, then.” As they turned back toward the conference room, Mya noticed that the sluggishness that usually came with muscle exhaustion that Max had been showing a moment before was gone now. He was almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, smiling brightly.

Something panged in her chest and she had to cover her own smile with a hand. The last thing she needed was to actually start feeling things for this man. No matter how badly she wanted to.

 

***

 

“He really is adorable.” Katie and Mya sat side-by-side on the couch, watching the evening news. They were doing a story on Max’s upcoming trial, including pictures of him from before the murders, some going back as far as high school. “Where did they get all of this?”

“It’s probably public record,” Mya sighed quietly, her chin in her hand. “I hope he’s not watching this. It’d upset him to hear all of this laid out by a reporter.” 

“--two counts of first-degree murder, one sexual assault, and conspiracy--”

Mya snapped off the television, glaring.

“I was watching that!” protested Katie.

“I know.” Mya tried not to pace, forcing herself to sit back down. “It just makes me sick. The voyeurism of this.”

“You know--”

“No. Stop. The clinical kind is different.” She rubbed her temples in frustration. “When the public is looking in on the mental health of someone who committed a crime, it’s the worst kind of voyeurism. It’s ‘normal’ people reveling in being normal. ‘Look how broken he is. We’re so lucky we’re not like that.’” Her eyes flashed as she looked up at her roommate. “Yes, he’s broken. Yes, he did some terrible things. But he’s not that person anymore and he’s working so damn hard to be better.” She put her face in her hands and was surprised to find that she was crying.

Katie put a hand on her roommate’s shoulder, then snuggled up next to her. “Are you okay?”

“No,” whispered Mya. “I… I think I’m pulling a  _ Grey’s Anatomy _ .”

“Oh, honey.”


	8. Chapter 8

Max followed his lawyer around the courtroom, listening to him talking about the upcoming hearing. He tried to stay focused, but it was hard. The space resounded strangely with echos he wasn’t used to and he had gotten to the point where he really loathed Evan’s voice. His lawyer had a strange accent that kept Max on edge in spite of how careful the man was to smooth out his words, not quite a Southern drawl, not Midwestern, but definitely still out of place in New York.

“And we’ll sit here.” Evan put a hand on the wooden table, indicating where the defendant and counsel sat. 

Max stopped beside the table and considered it, then the judge’s bench, and the audience space behind. “Just you and me here?” Evan nodded and Max tried not to chew his lip. “And anyone can sit there?” He nodded toward the public seating.

“Unless the judge decides to close the hearing to the public and press, yes.”

Fear clutched at his throat and Max had to close his eyes to even out his breathing again. Julia could come. She could be sitting there, behind him. Staring at him the whole time. “Fuck,” he breathed softly. “This is gonna be hard.”

“Sorry?” Evan watched him with wary eyes.

Max met his lawyer’s eyes and felt his lips twitch in a weak smile. “There are going to be a lot of people here who hate me,” he said in a small voice. “That’s going to be really… really hard to cope with.” He looked down and away from Evan and added softly, “Especially alone.”

“I’ll be there,” Evan offered, trying to sound cheerful. He paused when Max didn’t smile, then seemed to consider for a while. “Is there anyone you would want there? Family? Friends?”

“I didn’t have many friends before this,” Max said, “and I sort of killed my only family member. So… no.” There was a bitter humor in his voice that made both men blink in surprise. In the awkward silence after this statement, he added, “Though it would be nice if Doctor Sing and Marijka could be there. And maybe Doctor Martin? I know it’s weird to have your doctors sit where your family or friends would be but…” he shifted his feet sadly, his head still down, “they’re kind of all I have.”

Evan considered for a few moments, then nodded, “We’ll talk to them about it, Max. If they’re okay with it, I can’t see how it would be a problem. If anything, it could be a real vote of confidence for you.”

 

***

 

Evan sat across the desk from Doctor Sing in her office while Mya leaned on the window sill. “Max wanted me to ask you if you would be willing to sit near him during the hearing.”

Mya blinked and glanced at Doctor Sing, just as the senior psychiatric doctor glanced back toward her. “I don’t have a problem with that. Mya?”

“I was thinking about going anyway,” she said softly. “Where would we be?”

“Just behind the defendant's desk, in the audience,” Evan explained. “The first row is usually for immediate family, that sort of thing, but I know he doesn’t have anyone else. If you want to sit there or farther back, either would probably be fine.”

“Have you considered the judge’s reactions?” 

Evan nodded, “The judge should be positively influenced with this, honestly. Having his doctors there as observers would indicate that you’re supportive of his defense.” His eyes darted to Mya and then away again as he added carefully, “Although, I think it might be better if Mya… sits farther back.”

Mya stared at him. “Why me?”

Both the lawyer and the doctor turned to look at her and she felt herself blushing. “Don’t make me enumerate the similarities between you and Doctor Devereau,” Doctor Sing sighed, “again.”

“But why is that bad in this case?” Mya insisted. 

“Because it invites comparison,” said Evan. “If the judge notices you and compares you to Doctor Devereau, he might start to question your relationship with Max. Or, more importantly, Max’s relationship with you.” 

Mya stared for a second, then said softly, “You’re worried that the judge would think he’s fixated on me.”

“Maybe not consciously,” Evan said quickly. “But the connection could still be made.”

Mya crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the floor, frowning. “I want to help as much as I can. I’d rather be sitting close by.” She swallowed some of her other protests, about how Max would be calmer with her close by; how if he started to get agitated, she could help calm him down. She knew those wouldn’t be beneficial, even if they were true. And she certainly didn’t need Doctor Sing hearing her say how badly she wanted to be able to reach out and touch him when he got upset. Because he would get upset. It was unreasonable to think he wouldn’t. Unhappily, she rubbed her hands over her arms and waited. 

“We’ll take it into consideration,” Doctor Sing said softly. “In the end, we have to do what’s best for the case.”

“I know,” Mya sighed. 

 

***

 

After the meeting with the lawyer, Doctor Sing released Mya for general duty and office time. She wandered around for a little while, then found herself drawn eternally back toward E Ward. When she knocked on the door to Max’s room, his voice was muffled in answer: “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” she said softly. “Marijka.”

There was an awkward pause, then he said, “It’s open.”

Mya pushed open the door and stopped in surprise to see that one of the physical therapists was there, working her hands over Max’s bare back. “I can totally come back later,” she blustered in embarrassment and turned back toward the door.

“It’s okay,” Max said. “I mean, if you’re okay with it, I am.” There was a slightly shy tone in his voice, but otherwise, he seemed to mean it.

Mya made eye contact with the therapist, who shrugged with a smile. After a minute of consideration, Mya slipped into the room and pulled up a chair near Max’s head. “How are you feeling?” she asked him.

Max lifted his head to prop his chin on his wrists and smiled at her. “Good. It’s hard to feel not good for this, though, so… take that with a grain of salt.” He paused and tilted his head, studying her face. “What about you?”

Mya opened her mouth, then closed it again, realizing that it was the first time they had exchanged the question on equal footing before. She realized with a blush rising to her cheeks that she’d sought him out, not for his own comfort but for hers. “Just… got some stuff on my mind,” she admitted in a small voice without meeting his eyes.

They were quiet for a moment before Max said softly, “Do you… want to talk about it? I mean, can you? I don’t even… I’d listen if you want. If it’s okay.”

Mya glanced up at the therapist, who was doing her best impersonation of a stone statue while still doing her job, working tension out of Max’s back muscles. “I… probably shouldn’t,” she whispered and let her eyes return to the floor between the edge of his bed and her own feet. 

After a long, silent moment only interrupted by the occasional squeak of the bed as the therapist moved her hands, Mya saw something move near the top of her vision. She looked up and saw that Max had let one of his hand drop down over the edge of the bed. Chewing her lip, she chanced a look into his face. He smiled at her, blushing a little, then turned his hand over, palm up. Offering.

Mya slipped her fingers between his and let out a soft sigh, her eyes sinking closed. 

_ I am in SO much trouble. _

 

***

 

She came to him.

She had knocked on his door. And asked to come in. To see him.

Without Doctor Sing.

Just. Marijka.

By herself.

And she’d wanted to talk to him. About things she probably shouldn’t, as his doctor. Even if she wasn’t a doctor.

She had sounded so sad when she had declined to talk about it.

He’d felt his heart stretch at the sound of her sadness.

He knew what that sound meant.

She was lonely.

She was as lonely has he had been. 

For so. Long.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to reach.

He wasn’t supposed to try to touch someone else.

He could accept touch, learn to receive it. To passively absorb that contact.

But he couldn’t offer. Not without it being seen as aggressive.

So… he’d just opened his hand.

And smiled when she looked at him.

And she took it.

When she had left again and the physical therapist had finished and moved on as well, Max had remained on his bed, face down, thinking. It seemed like everything was moving around him, so he pushed his face into the pillow and hugged his arms over his head. 

He couldn’t stop smiling. He felt warmer than he had in a year, like someone had opened a little door in his chest and placed a candle inside. After several minutes of grinning stupidly into his pillow, another feeling crashed over him and he started to cry. 

Relief. 

He had been reading her right. 

He hadn’t been imagining how she lingered when she rubbed his shoulder. 

He hadn’t been imagining the fondness in her smile.

It was real. She felt something for him.

It was real.

 

***

 

Mya settled down onto the couch beside Jose and he passed her the popcorn. They’d been having these staying-in-going-out sessions for almost a month now, but Mya found herself reluctant to admit to him that she was starting to feel something for Max. She hugged the bowl to her chest and sighed, tucking her chin down as Jose flipped channels through the upper tier and around to AMC. At her sigh, he glanced over. “Feelin’ okay?”

“Not really,” she admitted, blushing. “Worried.”

“About the hearing?”

“Yeah.”

“They still want you to sit farther back?” Jose took a drink of his beer without meeting her eyes. 

“Yeah.” Mya bounced the popcorn in the bowl, listening to the old maids rattle at the bottom. “I really wish they’d let me sit closer.”

Jose was quiet for a moment, then said in a soft voice, “Y’know, My. It’s okay if you’re not… into us.” When she looked up in surprise, he smiled at her, a little sadly. “I mean, I really like you. But you’re my friend first. And I can see that you don’t really… feel the same way.”

Mya stared at him for a second, then said, “Really?”

“Yeah.” He stretched his arms over the back of the couch with an exaggerated flex of his chest muscles. “I mean, we’ve been doing this for weeks and you still haven’t tried to rip my shirt off. I figured I must be doing something wrong.” Mya laughed and poked his side with her toe. “Seriously, though,” he said with a more comfortable smile. “I know you well enough to know that you’ve been thinking about someone else. Someone older. With a much more checkered past. And if you go for that kind of thing, that’s fine. I’ll just reapply sometime after I’ve held up a gas station or something.” His tone was light and he grinned when she blushed. “You know I’m teasing, right? That’s all it is. No hard feelings.”

“Thanks, Jose.” Mya set the bowl of popcorn aside and flopped over onto his chest. He wrapped her up in a hug and smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

“I try,” he murmured softly. “You ever need to talk, I’m here. Okay?”

After a second, Mya sat back and fixed him with a playfully squinty glare. “Did you just friend-zone yourself, dude?” Jose threw his head back against the back of the couch and laughed.

 

***

 

The morning of the hearing found Max being piled into a hospital van while Doctors Martin and Sing followed behind in a car with Mya in the back seat. When they got to Evan Shifflett’s office, he helped Max get dressed in a suit. Max insisted on tying the tie himself, though it got tangled into a ball rather than falling normally. When the lawyer reached to help, he twitched away. “I can get it.”

“I don’t have time to fight you on this, Max,” Evan sighed. “Will you let someone else help you?”

Max flipped the tie over his hand, trying to remember the pattern necessary to tie it properly. Even before the Incident, it had been a long time since he’d tied a tie. “No.”

“Somebody, please come in here and fix Max.” Evan stuck his head into the hallway and growled the request in a voice that made Max look up in amusement. 

“I’m not broken!” he protested. “I can get it!”

Mya chuckled as she came into the office and found that Max had managed to knot the necktie around his left wrist. “C’mere before you hurt yourself,” she teased and he sighed, submitting to her as she unwound the knot, flipped up his collar and efficiently tied the tie comfortably around his neck. “Too tight?”

“No, it’s good,” he said in a small voice. He smoothed the tie back down against his chest while Mya flipped his collar back down. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she answered, her voice equally small. After a second, Mya bit her lip and smiled in embarrassment. “I know you could have gotten it. This was just faster.”

“I know,” he agreed with a sheepish smile. “I was just scared that Evan was going to strangle me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” snorted the lawyer. “Let me see.” He turned his client towards him, then brushed a few pieces of lint off Max’s shirt and handed him the suit jacket. “All set. Time to go.” He glanced at Mya. “You’re going to be where again?”

“Row three,” Mya sighed softly. “Like I’m supposed to.”

When the lawyer turned away, Max reached one hand out and Mya slipped her fingers between his again, just a quick contact before they both let go and walked into the hallway. Max walked through first with Mya close behind him, then they spaced out to be seated in the courtroom.

Doctor Martin and Doctor Sing sat in the second row behind where Max and Evan were seated. Mya tucked herself into the row directly behind them and leaned forward to prop her chin beside Doctor Sing’s shoulder. “You think he’ll be okay?” she whispered.

“I think he’ll be fine,” Doctor Sing smiled. “Don’t worry so much. He’s come a long way in the last six months.” She reached back and patted Mya on the shoulder.

“All rise!” called the bailiff and everyone stood up as the judge came in.

 

***

 

By the time the judge called a recess for the day, Max felt like shit. He managed to stand up when the judge left, then promptly sat right back down at the desk again and dropped his head onto his forearms with a groan. 

“Collapse in the car,” Evan said gently, putting one hand under his arm. 

“Not sure I can walk,” Max replied without moving. He could hear movement, then Doctor Martin’s voice murmuring to Evan. Mya’s followed quickly, her tone worried. He lifted his head carefully and turned to look over his shoulder. Her eyes were on Evan’s face and her expression was pinched with concern. He found a small smile pulling on the corners of his lips and courage pushing down into his legs. “No, I’m okay,” he said and pushed himself up by the table to turn toward them. Mya’s eyes turned to meet his and he felt his smile warming up.

They had just enough time to hear someone scream before the gunshot.


	9. Chapter 9

Boom Boom Boom

Boom

 

People screamed, threw themselves down to the ground and under the benches. Officers of the court rushed with their own pistols drawn, shouting the woman down to the ground. 

Her voice rang out proud and defiant: “Is he dead? Did I get him?”

An officer pried the gun from her hands while another forced her to her knees. All the while, her voice kept calling for confirmation. Kept calling for the death of the man who raped her.

 

When the first shot registered, all Mya could think of was Max.

“Max!?” she screamed and vaulted over the railing between the public gallery and the defendant’s bench. She found him under the table, his body still and unmoving. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no. Max, baby, look at me.” She turned his face to hers, holding his cheeks in her palms. “Max, c’mon. C’mon!” His skin was still warm, but he didn’t respond. “No,” Mya whimpered and curled her arms around him, drawing his head to her chest as she started to rock. “No. You’ve got to be okay. Please, Max.” When she ran her palm down his cheek again, she felt a twitch of his jaw and she gasped, leaning down to look at him. “Max?”

“She hates me.” His voice was a low rumble full of despair and Mya closed her eyes, feeling tears starting to fall as she held him. “She’ll kill me eventually. And I don’t even blame her.” She curled her fingers into his hair and pulled his face against her shoulder, still rocking. Eventually, he coughed quietly and asked, “Um… doc?”

“I’m not a doctor,” Mya whispered with a weak smile. 

Max tilted his head to look up at her, expression puzzled and almost amused. “No. I suppose you’re not.” He shifted his shoulders slightly and winced. 

“Are you hurt?” she whispered urgently and leaned to look him over for blood. 

“She missed me,” Max answered, then he paused and looked up at her again. Slowly, he brought one hand up like he wanted to touch her face, then stopped, his eyes hungrily searching. “I... I’m okay.”

Mya touched his cheek and smiled at him. “Good.” After a second of watching him, she whispered, “Max, I… This is, like, the worst ethical decision I’ve ever made in my life, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Will you get in trouble if you do?” Max whispered back.

“Probably.”

Max pinched his eyes shut, then looked up at her again, smiling through the tears. “Then don’t. It’s enough that you want to.” He turned his face into her shoulder and Mya held him against her tightly, still rocking slightly. “You really want to?” he whispered so only she could risk hearing.

“Yeah,” she whispered back against his ear. “I really do.” He exhaled and she smiled when his arms curled around her waist. Mya stroked her hand through his hair and just held onto him, her eyes closed.

“Max!?” It was Evan calling for his client and Mya looked up quickly, wondering if she should try to pretend she hadn’t panicked like a teenager and flung herself at him. Max’s arms tightened around her, though, so she tucked her chin and waited for the lawyer to locate them under the table instead. “Max.” He paused, then added, “Mya? Is he…?”

“I’m okay,” Max rasped and released Mya so he could sit up on his own. “She missed me. I just hit my head on the table when I ducked.” He rubbed his forehead, looking sheepish. There was a welt there and Mya felt bad that she hadn’t noticed it earlier. 

“As if your head hasn’t been through enough,” she commented wryly as she crawled out from under the table and stood up. She offered Max a hand up and he took it, leaning on the edge of the table and her hand to get to his feet. Even once he was up, his fingers stayed curled around hers and she smiled at him. “Are you dizzy?”

“No,” he answered. “I think I’m fine now.” He turned and looked around the courtroom. “Is everyone else okay? Did she hit anybody?”

“She grazed me,” the lawyer admitted with a small smile, indicating the powder burns and hole in his suit jacket. “Just the jacket, though. I’ll send her a bill.”

Mya looked at the hole with a cold feeling in her chest, then looked at Max, her eyes quickly scanning his body again. Evan’s shoulder had been approximately in front of where Max had been standing; if Juliet had grazed the lawyer, she had been much closer to hitting her target than Max seemed to think she’d been. But she still saw no signs of harm on him. She swallowed hard, then let her eyes return to his face. Max smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “I’m okay, Marijka.”

“Mya,” she whispered.

“What?”

With a shy smile, she stood a little closer to him and whispered, “You can call me Mya. Just don’t let Doctor Sing hear you. Okay?”

“Okay.” He ducked his head and stopped just short of leaning his forehead against hers, then pulled back and straightened up, clearing his throat. With a small smile, Max added, “So… if I go to Mount Sinai…”

“Yeah, I won’t be on your care team anymore,” she agreed softly. “Already thought about it.” He blushed and ducked his head with a low chuckle. “It’s probably still not ethical, but… shit, I don’t care.” She squeezed his fingers, then looked up quickly to where Doctor Sing was recovering from her own dive to the floor. “I should go.”

“Just…” Max chewed his lip, then smiled as his blush deepened. “Don’t go far?”

“Never.” Mya felt his fingers tremble as he released her hand and she smiled at him.

“You okay?” Doctor Martin asked Mya as she came closer. Many of the people in the public gallery were slowly finding their feet again and it took Mya a moment to figure out how to get back across the railing. It had gotten taller than she remembered when she’d vaulted it earlier.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered and finally located one of the gates so she could sit next to them on the bench. Doctor Sing was rubbing her ears and looking more irritated than afraid. “You?”

“What?” Doctor Sing asked, then rubbed a knuckle into her ear with a short laugh. “My ears are ringing so loud I can hardly hear anything. Other than that, I’m fine.”

“I think she managed to miss everyone,” Doctor Martin sighed, looking back toward where the bailiffs had muscled Juliet out of the courtroom in handcuffs. Suddenly, his face paled and he looked down quickly toward the defendant’s stand. “Is Max…”

“He’s fine,” Mya said. “Evan, too, though his jacket may need to be retired. I guess she grazed him but he’s not hurt.” The three of them looked at each other somberly for a moment before she added in a small voice, “She tried to kill him.”

“Again,” agreed Doctor Sing. “This makes one certain attempt and one attempted break-in, neither of which can be called self-defense. Hopefully security will take her seriously now.”

“They can’t let her out,” Mya said nervously. “Not after this. Can they? I mean, this is assault, not to mention carrying a firearm into a courtroom. That can’t be legal.”

“Technically, it’s only attempted assault,” Evan’s voice carried up to them as he leaned on the railing and beckoned them closer. They came closer and Mya settled onto the bench closest to where Max was standing on the other side of the railing. “She didn’t actually hurt him, so it’s not assault.” Mya chewed her lip and glanced at Max’s face, but he was studying the back of his own hand on the railing, his expression closed. “The firearm here in the court, though. They’ll come hard on that one, not to mention firing whoever let her in, if they can find out who let that slip. I can’t imagine how she managed that.”

“Plenty of people think I should be dead for what I did,” Max said in a soft voice. “She probably found a sympathetic ear.”

“Okay, everyone,” called a bailiff in a weary voice. “We’ll need you all to stay for statements. I’m sorry, folks, but this is going to take some time.”

“Fuck,” sighed Doctor Martin, glancing at his watch. “I’ll call the hospital, have them reschedule my appointments.” He pulled out his phone and paced to the side of the room, already dialing.

“I’ll have to do the same,” Doctor Sing groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. 

“Hi, Maria? I’m tied up here. Can you reschedule for me? Thanks.” Evan grinned cheerfully as he put his phone away. “Having a secretary is nice.”

“Smug bastard,” grumbled Doctor Sing as she walked away with her phone and the lawyer chuckled.

Max slowly let himself fall back into the chair beside the desk and covered his face with his hands. “I’m so tired.”

“I know,” Evan sighed sympathetically and patted his shoulder. “Maybe you can try to catch a nap?”

The expression on Max’s face was a mix of terror and disgust. “Here?”

“People sleep in court all the time,” the lawyer grinned. 

“Yeah, well.” Max wrinkled his nose, “I’m not exactly people.”

“You are so,” whispered Mya. “Come with me.” She reached across the railing and held out her hand, offering him an encouraging smile. Reluctantly, he stood up and came around the railing through the gate. She guided him to a quiet spot near the wall and slid down until she was sitting with her back against the wall and her legs folded in front of her. “Trust me,” she said softly, still holding her hand out.

With a wary sigh, Max slid down the wall to sit next to her. “I do. It’s not you I’m worried about.”

“I know.” She curled her fingers between his and held his hand in her lap. “Just put your head down and trust me. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” 

Max watched her face carefully for a second. “Mya, is this a good idea?”

“You getting some sleep when you’re tired? Of course it is.”

“No, I mean…” he gestured his free hand between their chests, “this.”

Mya smiled fondly and squeezed his hand. “Shut up and put your head down. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered and smiled quietly before shifting down and putting his head in her lap. Mya let out a soft sigh and draped one arm over his shoulder, stroking her fingers through his hair as she did. “Just don’t want you to get in trouble,” he whispered.

“Shhh,” she replied and let the backs of her fingers run down his cheek. “Everything’s fine.” Slowly, inch by inch, he relaxed against her and Mya smiled, listening to his breathing falling down into a steady, quiet rhythm. She kept stroking his hair until she was sure he was asleep, then looked up to check what she could see of the room.

Doctor Sing watched her with a frustrated expression on her face. She shook her head slowly and turned away to continue the conversation she was having on her cell. Mya smiled. 

Small victories.

 

***

 

The floor was hard under his shoulder and hip.

But his cheek was pressed into something warm and soft.

And a hand was brushing lightly through his hair.

Max didn’t open his eyes. He just stayed there as he woke up, listening to her breathing, focused on the way her arm curled around his shoulder and her hand touched his hair. 

He knew he didn’t deserve a second of this. Not after what he’d done.

He deserved what Juliet had been hoping to give him: a bullet in the brain.

A bullet where her nail had gone.

But here he was, his head in the lap of a girl who cared about him, who wanted to touch him and have him touch her. A girl who was funny and warm, smart and thoughtful. Who smelled like lavender and ginger and faintly of something he thought might have been mint. Whose hand felt natural on his face or curled between his fingers. Who smiled when she saw him, without fail. Who made him smile, too.

He didn’t deserve this. But he’d run with it as long as he could.

“Max?” Mya’s voice was soft and gentle. He loved how she said his name, especially since she’d admitted she felt something for him. She had always sounded like she was carrying his name in cupped hands, like someone presenting a gift. Now, she sounded like that gift was precious. “You awake?”

“I keep asking myself that,” he replied without opening his eyes. Her hand stroked his cheek and he smiled. “Still not sure.” He shifted so he could work one arm around her hips and drape the other over her legs. He rolled until his face was pressed into her stomach. “If I’m not awake, I want to stay asleep.”

“I think they’re getting down to us,” Mya whispered gently. Max felt her arms curling around him, though, like she was going to hold him close as long as possible. As far as he was concerned, she could hold him forever. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he admitted. “How long as I out?” Carefully, he pushed up until he was sitting and facing her, though their hands remained laced together. Mya obviously wasn’t eager for him to pull away and the thought made Max smile. 

“Maybe half an hour?” she replied, her thumbs brushing over his knuckles. “I feel bad for the officers. They’re bone tired and they’ve had to take all these statements. They’re going as fast as they can, but there were just so many people here.”

“It’s what they get for being curious,” chuckled Max. “The people, I mean.”

“I figured.” Mya smiled and they both looked up as a shadow fell across them.

“Max Sonnen?” the bailiff said wearily. When Max nodded and stood up, the man took him by the arm and ushered him away from Mya without a backward glance. Max glanced back at Mya, but she gave him a warm smile and a reassuring nod. “You want your lawyer?” asked the bailiff.

“Do I need him?” Max asked in surprise.

“I figured, since he’s already here, you might want him.” 

Max shrugged, then glanced toward where Evan was standing. When the lawyer saw Max’s movement, he immediately angled toward them. “Is there a problem?” he asked the bailiff quickly.

“Just taking his statement,” the bailiff replied.

They stared at each other for a moment, then Evan took up his spot on Max’s free arm. “I’ll just come along, if that’s okay.”

“No problems here.”

Max glanced nervously toward Mya, then followed them away.


	10. Chapter 10

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Marijka Jane Norris.”

“Date of birth.”

“January 12th, 1979.”

“What can you tell me about the events of January 28th, 2016?”

Mya sighed and rubbed her palms against the legs of her jeans. “I came to court with Doctors Martin and Sing.”

“Full names, please.”

“Doctor James Martin and Doctor Amalia Sing. Doctor Sing is my overseeing doctor for my master’s thesis. We attended court to offer emotional support to the defendant, Max Sonnen, who is a patient.”

“And what is your relationship to the defendant?”

Mya glared. “Doctor Sing is his lead psychiatrist and I am doing research on his rehabilitation for my thesis.”

There was a long pause as the bailiff raised his eyebrows at her. She lifted her chin and stared back. Finally, he sighed, “Fine. What happened in the courtroom?”

“The judge had just called for an overnight recess to examine the evidence and consider his ruling. Max was tired, so had sat back down after everyone had risen for the judge to leave. Evan Shifflett, Max’s lawyer, was trying to get him to stand back up so they could go back to the car. I heard someone scream and turned to look, but I couldn’t see anything. And then there was a gunshot.”

“Just one?”

“No, three in quick succession. And then one more.”

“Did you see the shooter?”

“No, but I could hear someone yelling over all the other voices, ‘Did I get him? Is he dead?’” Her skin crawled just saying the words. 

“Describe the voice.”

“Female, mid-30s maybe. Mezzo-soprano. She sounded angry, almost hysterical.”

“After the gunshots, what happened?”

Mya considered how to answer, then decided to be honest. “There was a lot of yelling and people trying to get down under benches. But all I really could think about was making sure Max was okay.”

The bailiff gave her that skeptical look again. “Very protective of your research subject?”

“Very concerned for a patient.” Something bubbled in her chest and she tried to keep from adding anything more, but the bailiff gave a short snort. “Very concerned, like any decent human being, for the life of someone living and breathing and trying to make something better of his life,” she finally snapped. “I wanted to make sure he was still living and breathing.”

The bailiff fixed her with a stare, then said, “So you believe Max Sonnen was the target of the shooting.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Max’s case has not been kept private by any means. Due to the sensational nature of the case, it’s been on the news repeatedly since he was arrested and remanded to the care of first Mount Sinai Psychiatric and then Manhattan Psychiatric, where I work. The public knew where he would be having this hearing, obviously, since there were protesters and activists outside the courthouse when we got here. And Max has had an attempt on his life before.”

The bailiff’s head came up. “Excuse me?”

Mya shrugged. “He has. Juliet Devereau came to the cleared ward where he has been receiving treatment for the last six months. She clearly made a plan to avoid or compromise security and was walking with focus and purpose toward his hallway when she was stopped by nursing staff. She was escorted from the building at the time and the nurse told me that she was armed.”

“Why has there not been a report of this incident?” the bailiff asked as he flipped through his notes.

“Maybe because nobody cared that the victim of a rape tried to kill the man who raped her.”

Mya and the bailiff exchanged challenging stares before he asked, “Is that what you think?”

“I care very much,” she replied evenly. “Killing your rapist in self-defense is one thing. It’s something else to stalk and murder him six months after the fact.” When the bailiff remained quiet, Mya found herself continuing: “Max has experienced both physical and emotional trauma that has completely overwritten his previous worldview. He is a changed man, there is no question about that. He’s trying very hard to find his way in a world that now views him only as how he used to be, rather than who he has yet to become. He isn’t even sure who he is right now.” She paused and considered. “When Juliet Devereau put a nail gun to his head and shot a framing nail an inch and a half through his skull, Max’s dials reset to zero. She killed the man who raped her and gave birth to someone else. Someone who is fundamentally terrified of hurting another person. Of being hurt. Of being alone. Take all the things a child is afraid of and magnify them by an adult’s experience and capacity for logic and you have Max’s current state of mind.” Mya tapped her toe against the leg of her chair and sighed. “Max doesn’t deserve to die for what his old self did. I just wish the rest of the world was aware of the difference.”

The bailiff was quiet for a moment, then looked up, tapping his pen against the desk. “Thank you, Ms. Norris. I think that’s all I need from you. You can go.” She nodded and stood to go, but he cleared his throat and she looked back. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, hon.”

“Do any of us ever?” she smiled back.

 

***

 

“Not-guilty by reason of insanity.” The judge shuffled his papers. “I hate this plea, but agree that it’s necessary and accurate to this case. Mr. Sonnen, you are remanded to the care of Mount Sinai Psychiatric Facility until such a time as your doctors there can testify that you are cured and capable of returning to society as a productive member. Dismissed.” 

The gavel pounded.

With that one sound, Max’s knees gave out and he dropped back into his chair with a gasp. His hands went up over his face and he tipped his head back, relief flooding through him. He could hear Evan’s voice, feel the lawyer’s hand on his shoulder. Finally, he heard Mya’s voice whispering behind his ear from over the railing, “Congratulations. You’re crazy.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her upside-down with a brief glare. “Thanks, doc.”

“I’m not a doctor,” she reminded him with a quiet grin. 

“And I’m not crazy,” he replied. “Just damaged as fuck.” They both glanced around the courtroom for watching eyes, then he reached out and she took his hand in a quick squeeze. “So, come by for jello and really bad coffee?”

“I’d like that,” she grinned. “Though I think I’ll bring you better coffee and maybe something more fun than jello.”

“I’d really like that.”

As their hands released and they both pulled back into their own spaces, a flash of light blinded them both and Max grunted, hands immediately to his face. He still didn’t deal with bright lights well. Mya looked up with an irritated glare and whispered, “Damn press. I wish he’d told them they weren’t allowed in here.”

“We’re gonna be on the front page of the paper tonight,” muttered Max, blinking away the spots in his eyes. “‘Murderer and rapist chooses next target.’”

“Not funny.”

“I think it’s hilarious.” His tone said he didn’t, but he smiled thinly at her. “Are you really sure about this, Mya?”

“Never been more sure about anything in my life,” Mya smiled back, then flipped off the camera crew as they trained their lights on her.

Max felt like his heart was going to explode. 

Maybe he could get a happy ending.


	11. BAD END

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write something just to watch something die. So Max drew the short straw. This is an optional bad ending for the story which takes the place of Chapters Nine and Ten.

Boom Boom Boom

Boom

 

People screamed, threw themselves down to the ground and under the benches. Officers of the court rushed with their own pistols drawn, shouting the woman down to the ground. 

Her voice rang out proud and defiant: “Is he dead? Did I get him?”

An officer pried the gun from her hands while another forced her to her knees. All the while, her voice kept calling for confirmation. Kept calling for the death of the man who raped her.

 

When the first shot registered, all Mya could think of was Max.

She vaulted the railing, screaming his name. She saw the moment clearly, when Julia’s arm was still outstretched and the gun triumphant. She saw Max turning back while Evan dove for cover. She wrapped herself around him, held his head to her shoulder and dragged him down.

Fire flashed.

“Marijka!?” She felt his arms around her, holding her. He felt like she’d imagined, his body warm and close, a little soft from the months of recuperation, but still firm and strong. His palm stroked her forehead and he groan, “No. No, please. This isn’t fair. It’s not fair!” He drew her against his chest again and started to rock. She could feel his tears, the sobs that shook him. “No…”

“Max?” She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. He wasn’t hurt. He was okay. “She missed you. Good. That’s… good.”

“Shhh,” Max whispered and cradled her close to his chest. Something flared in her back and she made a weak little gasp. “Shh, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “It should have been me. God, Marijka.”

“Mya,” she whispered and smiled. He stared at her and his face fell in on itself as he started to cry harder, still rocking her. “Max, it’s okay,” she breathed, reaching up to stroke the tears off his cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I promise.” When he started to shake his head miserably, she reached again, pressing her palm against his face. “Hey. Hey, listen to me. Max.” When he stopped to look at her, sniffling, she smiled again. “Everyone. Deserves to feel safe.”

He stared as her face seemed to slowly register the pain in her back. Her brows furrowed in confusion, pain and then the expression faded from them and her eyes closed as her head dropped down against his arm. “Mya,” he whispered. “Mya, please. Please, open your eyes. Mya?” When her body continued to soften in his arms, going more and more limp, he started to tremble and rock harder. “Mya?! Please, no. Don’t go. Please?” Her skin began to grow cold and Max clutched her to his chest, let out an animal howl of grief that shook him right to the center of what was left of his heart. 

Juliet had shot him deeper than any nail or bullet could have ever touched.

People were standing nearby, moving, talking. Nobody touched him. Nobody approached, uncertain about what to do about this broken man, holding the broken body of a woman he hadn’t even gotten the chance to love.

Finally, Evan crouched beside him, said his name: “Max. Max, can you hear me?”

Max shook his head fiercely, still sobbing into Mya’s hair, rocking harder. 

“Is she…?” It was Doctor Sing’s voice, trembling. 

Finally, he tilted his head back and looked up into his doctor’s face, the world a kaleidoscope of rainbows through his tears. “She saved my life,” he rasped, hopeless. Max looked back down into Mya’s slack face and he slowly stroked her hair back, feeling the softness there, the red-purple dyed strands seeming odd against his skin. “It’s not fair. She should have lived. I should have died. It’s not fair.”

A hand gently touched his shoulder and he flinched, his eyes tightly closed. “It isn’t your fault,” Doctor Sing said. “And she wouldn’t want you to think it was. Max, the authorities need to see her. You need to let her go.”

“No,” he gasped, hugging her closer. “Not yet. Please.”

“We can’t,” Evan whispered. “I’m so sorry, Max. They need to examine her.”

Miserable, Max looked down into her face. So still. Not even Mya anymore. Just a shell. He’d seen death. He’d caused death. But this… this was so much worse. He leaned down to press his lips to her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Mya,” he moaned. “I’m so sorry.” He laid her carefully down, then let the doctors and his lawyer lead him away as the police examiners came to ogle. Max looked down at himself and fisted his hands at his sides: her blood was spattered across his chest. He didn’t even know where Julia had hit her, how the bullet had still managed to miss him. How he was still breathing and she wasn’t.

“She was keeping you safe, Max,” whispered Doctor Sing beside him, her hand on his shoulder. “I… I always worried you would fixate on her. I guess I underestimated her feelings for you. I’m sorry for my part in this. I should have kept her away.”

Slowly, he shook his head. “No, I’m… I’m glad to have known her. I’m glad you didn’t keep her away.” He lifted his head to smile at the psychiatrist weakly. “She taught me more about love than anyone else in my entire life. I wish I could have told her that.”

Doctor Sing smiled sadly and squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah. She would have been happy to hear that.” 

 

***

 

“Not-guilty by reason of insanity.” The judge shuffled his papers. “I hate this plea, but agree that it’s necessary and accurate to this case. Mr. Sonnen, you are remanded to the care of Mount Sinai Psychiatric Facility until such a time as your doctors there can testify that you are cured and capable of returning to society as a productive member. Dismissed.” 

The gavel pounded.

With that one sound, Max’s knees gave out and he dropped back into his chair with a gasp. His hands went up over his face and he tipped his head back, relief flooding through him. He could hear Evan’s voice, feel the lawyer’s hand on his shoulder. Nothing reached into his darkness, though, as he whispered her name again: “Mya.”

“You okay?” Evan’s voice finally invaded and Max grunted.

“Yeah,” he sighed and stood up. “Just damaged as fuck.” He gave the lawyer a weak smile. “I don’t suppose they’ll let me out to attend her memorial.”

“I doubt it,” Evan agreed sadly. “But I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

As he was escorted quietly from the courtroom, he paused once more to look back.

It was like he could see her, standing there, smiling at him. Her red-purple hair braided over one shoulder. Her smile widened and she pressed two fingers to her lips, blowing the kiss to him. 

Max rocked with the impact and let his head hang as they pulled him the final few steps into the van and took him home.


End file.
